


Young And Hungry

by Leafontehwind



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Billionaire Derek Hale, Chef Stiles, Derek doesn't realize he's in pretty much the worst relationship ever, F/M, Gen, Lydia works at a law firm, M/M, One Night Stand, Slightly socially awkward Derek, pretty much a lot of crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2058570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafontehwind/pseuds/Leafontehwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burdened with crippling debt, Stiles is desperate and in need of a well paying job-- heck, he needed one yesterday. He answers an Ad for a personal chef gig.</p><p>Cut to the pretty adorable Billionaire tech genius Derek Hale who is seeking a replacement chef...</p><p> Yeah, the description could use some work. Basically what you need to know is this is an AU based off of a TV show of the same name.</p><p>[Young & Hungry AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. [Seeking Personal Chef]

**Author's Note:**

> So. If you watch the show on ABC Family, you know the story. It's going to diverge from the plot (especially when Stiles doesn't have a pregnancy scare, spoilers!) but more or less, this is the Sterek version of the show.
> 
> I hadn't even thought to recast this until my roommate was like you know... Then it got stuck in my head and I couldn't STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. Viola! Here it is. I'm going to write basically the episodes and post them in parts (who knew a 30-minute episode could turn into 10K words????). If you watch the show, I won't post the corresponding chapters the same week it's aired; I'm about seven episodes behind with this and, let's face it, I may completely divert from the shows plot (probably where Kate's involved) by then.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, way more to come! Kudos and comments are always lovely and appreciated way more than I can put into words!
> 
> Until next time~* 
> 
> PS: This isn't beta'd, any glaring mistakes are my own and are basically left until I'm made aware of them. Apologies in advance! Until I land someone to comb over my work, it's bound to happen. You all know how it is. :-)

Stiles got into the elevator of the very posh building, directed by a doorman (yes, a freaking _doorman_ ) and hit the button for the penthouse on the seventh floor. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the bundle of nerves that had taken over as soon as he saw what building the ad was for. There was no way he was qualified for this! They probably wanted five star cuisine with... caviar or something. Hell, he hadn’t even finished culinary school. Not due to not wanting too or ability, he just couldn’t afford it and there was no way he was asking his father for more money. Uh uh. No freaking way.

Still, even while dealing with this mild to major anxiety (stress on the major aspect of it), he knew he needed this job. He was a damn good chef, he had no real qualms about that. Zero. Zilch. Nada. And he needed to pay rent. Lydia wasn’t going to be able to float this months rent.

He had this. Confidence was freaking KEY. Capital letters and exclamation points to emphasize just how much he got this. People raved about his food, back home they wanted him to help cater family reunions and there had even been requests for him to come back after he finished school and open up his own little restaurant in that empty store front that hasn’t had a viable business occupying it’s space for as long as he could remember.

 _If they could only see him now._

“No, stop that!” He admonished himself, straightening his back and rolling his shoulders back. “I got this.” Stiles watched the few remaining floors rush by and tried to remember Lydia’s pep talk from this morning after she had managed to get them free coffee (part of him chalked that down to Lydia’s powers of persuasion... or that the barista who had a thing for her was working). They would be lucky to have him. All he needed to do was to was wow them with his amazing dishes and he had it in the bag. There was also a comment about not letting his mouth ruin his chances for him, which...rude. 

Not inaccurate, but rude.

It was kind of why he was let go from his trial basis at the bakery a couple of weeks ago. He was just trying to improve their sales with a superior Danish, how was he to know it was the owners great-grandmothers recipe he was calling bland? Actually, the phrase ‘tastes like cardboard’ may have been closer to what he had said... But, still! He was just trying to help.

As the elevator stopped at his floor, Stiles winked at his reflection in the mirrored doors, “You totally got this dude.”

Keeping that facade of confidence in place he strode forward to the front door of the penthouse and wrapped his knuckles on it’s steel grey surface twice. Not to aggressively, and not too panicked-- cool suave. _I got this._ He repeated to himself inwardly as if it were his new mantra.

The door opened revealing a gorgeous blonde woman with blood red lipstick on, the fact that she was holding a feather duster in her right hand in no way detered from her bombshell looks. He black button up blouse was almost obscenely unbuttoned revealing a camisole that matched her lipstick perfectly. He had to pointedly focus on her eyes so his gaze didn’t drift south. Stiles just hoped he wasn’t gaping like a fish because this was not what he expected. Not that he actually knew _what_ to expect... but, still. This wasn’t exactly it.

“Hi,” The young man said with a warm smile, holding the black folder with his resume and references in them before him. “I’m Stiles Stilininski. I’m here to apply for the private chef’s position. Hopefully you can see me right away since I only had enough money to pay to park for twelve minutes.” Which was true, though now it was down to about ten minutes thirty seconds after the elevator ride, but who was counting.

The woman grinned at him, it seemed more predatory than endearing. “Well, then you better hurry. You can’t use the front door, you’ll have to use the service entrance.” With that she closed the door on him, not allowing him to ask her where exactly the service entrance was. 

Stiles let out a huff of air, looking down both ends of the hallway from where he stood. One had a door marked as the stairwell, while to the left the hallway had a corner that turned left. Option number two it was. 

He half ran, half jogged down the hall until he spotted another door. He hoped that this was still the same penthouse (though, weren’t they usually the whole floor) as he knocked rapidly, thinking about the parking meter slowly ticking away several floors below him.

The same woman opened the door, the same grin plastered to her face. If Stiles wasn’t already nervous and running out of time, he could have stepped back and admired this woman, she seemed to be enjoying this a little bit too much.

Stiles flashed a smile at the woman, trying to not feel deflated at this strange turn of events. He felt his facade of confidence fading, he really needed to get to the whole interview stage of this whole thing. Running around the hallway made him feel like the stupid teenager that he hadn’t been in years. “Please tell me this is the service entrance?

“It’s actually just down the hall, right next to the trash shute,” The woman said with a faux pout, pointing with her perfectly manicured nails the direction that he should continue on.

Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes and nodded, moving to start down the hall way when the woman called him back. “Hey Stilinski," Stiles stalked back to the door, eyebrows raised in a silent question as he gazed at the blonde woman. “As long as you’re going that way...” She bent down and picked up a trash bag, hand extending towards him while her eyebrows were raised in arcs across her forehead.

Right... okay. Let the potential chef jump through hoops. That’s totally awesome and professional, he thought sarcastically. Well, okay. So he might think to do the same thing if he was in a (albeit minor) position of power in the situation. Still, this woman was evil.

Stiles grabbed the bag and started down the hall once again, he dumped the trash down the shute before all but banging on the door. His heart was hammering in his chest, not from excursion (please, he was in better shape than that, thank you very much) as he leaned against the doorframe. He thought he would be stressed out during the interview, not before it even started!

When the door opened, he didn’t even give the bombshell a chance to answer. “This better be it because I’m down to nine minutes.”

The woman chuckled warmly, “Well, you’re in luck it is. C’mon in cutie. I’m Erica.”

“Thank god,” He mumbled as he stepped past the threshold. Stiles followed the woman after she closed the door, taking in a few calming breathes through his nose. They walked down a small hallway before entering the open living space. Now, Stiles figured was a damn good time to gape.

“Wow, this place is amazing!” Stiles gaze flitted over everything as he walked faster into the living room, passing the woman as he went to the floor to ceiling windows that led to the balcony. “The city looks so pretty from up here... And you can practically make eye contact with people stuck in traffic on the bridge!” He turned back towards Erica, beaming at her. He couldn’t really contain his excitement, the penthouse was really amazing. Stiles really, really didn’t know how much it cost to live here... He knew how much Mr. Hale was worth so living in a place like this, despite how expensive it was, probably didn’t even make a dent in his wallet.

A man over by the dining area cleared his throat, drawing Stiles’ attention. In his whole fascination with the place, he hadn’t even registered the other two people in the pent house. The guy was tall, at least a head taller than Stiles. His curly hair was perfectly styled on his head, his features were angelic--if that was even the correct term. Stiles wasn’t sure what to call his looks, but he was handsome in the whole sharp cheekbones, innocent but probably not at all kind of way. A Burgundy scarf was around his neck despite the warm weather, completing his perfectly assembled outfit-- Stiles guessed that he was either the PA or the rich person that he was going to be attempting to cook for. He was guessing it was the assistant, which made him Isaac Lahey.

When Stiles was done taking the man in he noticed that his bright blue eyes were glaring at him in what Stiles thought was annoyance. Crap. Did he already do something wrong?

“Oh hi,” The man flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, hands clasped in front of him as he tilted his head to the side, calculatingly staring at Stiles. “We’re just finishing up here so, shh!”

Rude. Stiles startled, but stepped back toward one of the black chairs by the window. “Oh, okay, I’ll just be right here...” He started to slink down into the seat, throwing over his shoulder, “Won’t say another word.”

There was a beat of silence where Stiles could practically feel the daggers that the man was shooting at him from his eyes. He really was off to a great start, wasn’t he?

“Okay, now Mr Mahealani--”

WHAT.” Ohmygod.” Stiles shot straight out of the seat and practically ran over to the dining table to see the other man in the room, arms flailing a bit in excitement. The other man at the table was wearing a black chef uniform that somehow completely complimented his tanned skin, Stiles recognized him immediately. “Wait. Mahaelani? Like as in _Danny Mahealani_? I am a huge fan!” He leaned on the table turning his attention briefly toward Isaac, “You know he won Top Chef, right?”

Isaac rolled his eyes but leaned forward toward, all his attention on Danny while a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, “He could be on Top _Model_ Chef.”

Danny let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward in his chair with a dimpled smile, “I’d definitely audition for that show.”

“And take home the trophy!” Isaac lifted an arm and high-fived the chef. Dear lord, Stiles was interrupting their little flirt fest. He face-palmed internally, maybe that was why Isaac had been so rude to him for interrupting just a few minutes ago. That totally made sense.

Stiles decided he couldn’t just slink away, even if it was a little awkward to watch the two of them flirt. He never really liked being the third wheel. Wait. Why was Danny Mahealani here of all places? What a coincidence... Lydia was going to flip. They watched Top Chef religiously. Heck, they watched the Food Network religiously. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

Danny titled his head towards Stiles, smiling brightly and rather disarmingly at him. Wow, so he was just as attractive as he was on TV. And charming. When he was on Top Chef, he never once was flustered. He was one of the few who even joked in the little interviews but wasn’t riddled with nerves over his dishes. “I’m auditioning for the chef job.”

“Oh. _Oh_ ” CRAP. CRAP. There was no way he was getting this job if this was the competition. He didn’t have a shot in hell. Stiles could feel himself deflate as he took a step back, away from the table. What were the other Ads he saw? Nothing remotely promising for him in the culinary world, he was definitely _not_ going to apply for that Arby’s job. That was just depressing. Fuck. There go all of his hopes and dreams. Dashed away... By Danny Mahealani. He wished he could hate the guy.

“Okay Danny, thank you for coming in.” Isaac stood once more, gesturing for Danny to follow him. Isaac turned his head to speak over his shoulder, “You’ll be hearing for us soon.” The PA opened the door, a wide smile plastered on his face. “Possibly on the way to your car.”

Isaac leaned out the door, watching Danny as he got into the elevator with a a little wave before he closed the door. Turning around, he let out a little dreamy sigh.

“Well,” Isaac’s gaze landed on Stiles, the smile still in place though it wasn’t as wide. Or, as sincere. The PA ran a hand down his shirt, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles. “As you can see the positions already filled so... goodbye. You can see yourself out I’m assuming.”

Stiles opened his mouth a few times, completely flabbergasted. He knew he really didn’t have a shot at this job, but that didn’t mean he was going to just give up without a fight. He had to at least try. “But... Wait! So, I didn’t win Top Chef and I don’t have any awards to brag about... I don’t even have a boyfriend.” He paused, letting out a self deprecating laugh shaking his head. “But, you know what I do have? Lots and lots of debt. Which means I will be available to cook for your boss 24/7. I’d be at his beck and call. Midnight snack? No problemo. By the way, I’m Stiles.”

He extended his arm for a handshake, Isaac glanced the outstretched hand and then back to Stiles face. “That’s nice.” Instead of accepting the hand shake, Isaac picked up the iPad that was sitting on the table and turned around doing something on it as he walked into the kitchen area.

God. He was batting zero here. Isaac clearly already made up his mind on the position, but no. He was at least going to break through at get this ass-clown to be civil to him. Even if it was just for a second. Plus. if he could change the man’s mind...“And you are Isaac Lahey!" There wasn’t a picture when he did his research, but he was pretty damn sure that his Google-fu skills were right on. “Mr. Hale's right hand man, publicist.... plus how lucky is he to have you on his side?” Flattery was supposed to get you everywhere, right?

“And you can Google,” the PA seemed completely unimpressed as he fiddled around on the tablet.

The chef let out a squawk, completely baffled. Wasn’t he supposed to be good with people? If he was in public relations? He helped manage Derek Hale’s image and whatever media mishaps that might happen. Didn’t that mean you had to be at least good with people? Well, he was nice to Danny but Stiles was pretty sure that the PA was thinking about getting into the man’s pants and bonding over foodgasms. 

He opened his mouth to defend himself when stainless steel just seven feet away caught his eye. All of his thoughts came to a full stop, “Is that a sub-zero?" Stiles brushed past Isaac, his hands hovering over the refrigerator. It was so... beautiful. It was his dream to own one of these. One day. When he wasn’t drowning in crippling debt.

He barely registered the door opening and closing for a minute, too caught up in his awe-ful worship of the beautiful fridge. Stiles was not cooing at it. Absolutely not.

“Derek!" Isaac said warmly from behind him, drawing Stiles’ attention balefully away from the sub-zero. A man came into the penthouse wearing a soft looking green Henley and jeans. His hair was styled effortlessly, probably in a practiced way that only took five minutes but looked damn good on him. Derek Hale everyone, Stiles thought as he inched awkwardly out of the kitchen, not really knowing what to do with himself.

Derek looked tired, a small frown on his face as he unlaced his canvas shoes and tucked them beside the couch. He wasn’t just handsome, he was gorgeous. That realization hit Stiles like a ton of bricks. It wasn’t that Stiles didn’t know what he looked like, he’d seen the cover of WIRED and the various other articles that came up when looked the man up briefly online. But, Christ. He was even more gorgeous in person. And his eyes... Wow. Fuck, he thought they had been photoshopped!

Stiles shook his head, watching as Isaac practically pounced on his boss. He perched himself on the coffee table, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned into Derek’s space. “Welcome back. Who the hell travels ten hours and looks as good as you do? I swear you have some beauty regime secret that you refuse to share with me. You always look so handsome.”

Stiles gives into rolling his eyes this time, not that he was wrong, the man barely had any circles under his eyes. Derek shook his head fondly, “Long. But the launch went off without a hitch. Though, there was one software engineer, offered to sell me her code for two million... it looked like a good idea at first. But the specs were way off.” The man paused taking his phone out and typing out a message before back to his conversation. “Turns out her start up seized for fraud and she wanted someone to take the fall.” The man shook his head once more, leaning back into plush couch. “Sometimes I hate those business conferences.”

“Well, it’s good that you stayed away and didn’t do anything impulsive,” Isaac tutted, which made Stiles think that something like this had happened before... Or, at least it happened to someone other than Derek. “It sounds like that would’ve been a disaster.”

“Oh!” The billionaire brightened up and reached into his pocket for a small velvet box. “Look what I got.” He held the box out to Erica first who was leaning on the back of the couch and then to Isaac. Throughout the conversation, Stiles had slowly made his way over towards the living room, now peering over the PA’s shoulder. “It’s a ring for Kate.”

“That’s gorgeous,” Stiles breathed, he had never seen a ring that big before up close. It was so sparkley it looked like a Kay Diamond Ad. It probably cost more than renting his small two-bedroom apartment for a year. Well, let’s be realistic, _two_ years.

“Thanks,” Derek murmured snapping the box closed before his eyes locked on Stiles, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His gaze lingered for a moment and Stiles felt glued to the spot. Intense didn’t even begin to describe what was going on here, he felt... transfixed. “Isaac, who’s this?”

Isaac turned in his seat, baffled having had forgotten about Stiles completely. His mouth was set in a firm line as he glared at Stiles, clearly thinking that he had taken the hint and left the building already.

Stiles jumped in, not wanting to be dismissed entirely without getting a full chance. “Hopefully you’re new chef. If I’m lucky,” Stiles lifted his hands, fingers crossed in what he hoped was an endearing way. “I’m Stiles Stilinski.”

“We’re not hiring you,” Isaac hissed at him, getting up from where he sat to grab Stiles’ arm and dragging him towards the door none too gently. Stiles glanced behind him at Derek and Erica flashing a smile that he hoped would get him a second chance now that Derek was here. “We’re hiring a professional. One with awards. And sun-kissed skin... And dimples...” Isaac sighed dreamily, presumably thinking about the Top Chef. Stiles sighed as they reached the door. Even though he got this far, he still wasn’t even given a shot. Plus he probably obtained a ticket too. They were well passed the twelve minute marker now.

Derek hummed noncommittally, like he was used to Isaac lusting over potential co-workers. “That’s great. Where is he? I’m starving.”

Never one to miss an opportunity. Stiles stalked over to the couch after ripping his arm out of Isaac’s grasp, “I can make you something.” Stiles waved his hands by his sides, as if to emphasize his point. “I am here. And I know exactly what you want. I’m like a food psychic. It’s one of my superpowers. Well, that and sarcasm.”

“No, absolutely not,” Isaac chimed in pointing at Stiles and then gesturing to the hallway.

Stiles rolled his eyes and looked back at Derek pleadingly. The billionaire tilted his head to the side, staring at him calculatedly before lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “Why not.”

The chef punched the air before he scampered off to the kitchen. He knew exactly what he was going to make. It was simple and if he could find the right ingredients, maybe a little truffle oil-- this guy was rich, the kitchen had to be fully stocked-- This would be perfect. Stiles always won people over with his cooking.

 

After ten minutes Stiles slid the sandwich onto the plate and pushed it towards Derek who was sitting at the breakfast bar on the other side of the kitchen counter. “Bon appetite.”

“You made grilled cheese? Anyone can make grilled cheese!” Isaac exclaimed as he pointed at the sandwich. Clearly not impressed. But, Stiles wouldn’t let him second guess himself. He knew what he was doing and, after all, it wasn’t Isaac’s approval that he needed. 

Derek frowned down at the food, looking almost like he was scowling at the food. Stiles bit his lip in anticipation. He knew that the three different kinds of cheese would blend perfectly together, and the extra butter made the bread golden and delicious. It was comfort food, brought you back to your childhood memories of your mom making this for you when you were little. He just prayed that Derek wasn’t lactose intolerant or something.

“This looks... amazing,” Derek looked at Stiles quickly flashing him a blinding smile that lit up his entire face, picking up half of the sandwich and taking a bite. He let out a rumbling hum as he chewed, nodding slightly before taking another bite. “It’s perfect. It’s all...” The man made a gesture with his hand, as if he was trying to find the perfect descriptor and failing.

Stiles smirked as he leaned forward elbows on the counter, “Ooey gooey?”

Derek smiles toothlessly before another bite, nodding in agreement, “Exactly.” He looked at the chef for a moment, tilting his head to the side as his eyebrows knitting in thought. “You know what? Forget the other guy. You’re hired.”

Isaac let out a pained noise, staring between his boss and the chef in disbelief. “But Derek!!” He frowned at his boss, clearly not used to not getting his way with his boss. “You haven’t even met Danny Mahealani!” Derek just shrugged, picking up the second half of the sandwich. “Fine. But, at least have him do a trial dinner! Don’t just make your decision based on one grilled cheese.”

“One amazing grilled cheese," Derek corrected after swallowing a bite. “Well, I’m going to propose to my girlfriend on Friday, so everything has to be perfect. Like her. She’s gorgeous, cultured... way out of my league." Derek turned towards Stiles, obviously not sharing Isaac's concerns about his culinary skills. Stiles had to be thankful for this more or less complete faith in him. "Can you make a dinner that will make her say yes?”

Trial romantic dinner? Great. But, hey, he had to rock it in order to get this job. And he really, really needed this job. He had two days to prepare and look up recipe ideas. He could totally do this. Stiles grinned at Derek, “I’m going to do more than that buddy, I’m gonna make her say ‘Yes, yes, yes!'." Stiles paused looking at Derek and then Isaac who just threw up his hands in the air and stalked off. Yeah, okay. Maybe that was a little bit unprofessional... He really needed to developed a brain to mouth filter. Especially around people he barely knew. Especially while talking to his potential boss.

Stiles straightened up as Derek stared at him blankly for a moment. “Okay, I’m gonna...” Stiles threw a thumb over his shoulder towards the door.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some of the chapters will vary in length, either due to flow or where the "commercial" breaks are in the fic. :-D Which explains why this one in particular is short. I just wanted this part separate from the trial dinner.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the little update!

Stiles awkwardly shifted the bags in his hands as he tried to unlock the front door to his apartment. After leaving the penthouse, he went shopping for a few things to test out before Friday. It may be sad, but he got a thrill at being able to shop in the organic section without cringing at the prices and counting every single cent. Stiles manages to get the door open, kicking the door closed with his foot when he passed the threshold. It was a bit of a struggle, but thankfully he made it into the kitchen without dropping anything. Definitely a win in his book.

“Six bags of groceries,” A voice sounded from the far end of the living room where Lydia’s desk was, he could hear her typing away on her computer. Lydia had been his roommate for a little over a year, having broken up with he long time boyfriend and knew that Stiles had been looking to move out of his father’s house and into the city. Even though he often felt like he was in a dire situation, it was ideal. His friendship with Lydia had pretty much blossomed after that, Stiles was thankful that they could work past him crushing on her throughout high school. He had confused his admiring her for teenage love, but that was before he came to terms with the fact that he was definitely not interested in girls that way. “You either got the job or cleaned out your car.”

“Hey Lyds,” Stiles said as he put away the few perishable items in the refrigerator. “I got the job. Sort of. I got the job in an almost sort of way. I just have to make a trial dinner and if that goes well... I get the job.”

The red head immediately stopped what she was working on and rushed towards the kitchen, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. Stiles let out a laugh, glad that she was excited for him. “Yes!” Lydia drew away from the brief hug and spun around, hands clenched into fists that were pulled towards her chest in excitement. The woman was practically vibrating. “And if you get the job, _I_ get promoted.”  
Confused, Stiles whipped around, closing the fridge his fingers tapping against the handle of the door. With one eyebrow raised, he stared at the woman who was beaming at him with her bubble gum pink lips stretched wide in a smile. “Wait... what now?"

She nodded emphatically, placing her hands on her hips. “If I bring Derek Hale to my law firm, they’d definitely make me a partner. Hell, they might even change the name of the firm.” Lydia stared off into the distance, clearly coming up with several different scenarios of how exactly she could get to Derek and convince him to switch to their law firm. 

“Anyway,” Stiles shook his head, knowing that it would be good for her and even if he tried to convince her otherwise, she would find out a way to get her way in the end. Lydia was nothing if not determined and ambitious. Hence the crush on her, she was pretty damn amazing. He turned back towards the table to finish unpacking the bags. “He’s proposing to his fancy, high society girlfriend on Friday and my meal has to make her want to say yes. So...” Stiles paused for a moment, turning back to face Lydia with his arms crossed over his chest. Suddenly, he felt small, the weight of the situation finally hitting him. “I definitely have to put some crazy thought into this menu. But what if it doesn’t work, Lyds? What if my food will just make her hate Derek and laugh in his face?”

“Hey, don’t think like that!” Lydia swatted him on the arm lightly, reprimanding him. She was his rock. He could always talk to Scott, but he was sometimes too optimistic-- Not that that was a bad thing. It was just... Lydia saw things more objectively. She also wasn’t afraid to call him on his bullshit. “Remember, you have to have confidence in yourself and what you do. You got this. At work when dealing with the partners, I don’t second guess myself, even when Bob just wants to stare at my chest and not listen to a word I say. Then again, give it a few more months and I’ll have a full case against him for sexual harassment. Still," Lydia poked him in his chest a couple of times, accentuating every word. “Confidence is key.”

He nodded several times, letting her words sink in. Allowing himself to believe it completely. “When it comes to the kitchen, I have it covered. I have it all together. Oh!” Stiles took out his wallet and pulled out a card, holding it out to Lydia so she could see. It was sad how excited he was for this part, it was freeing. The thrill he got just by shopping in the organic section would only be amplified when he could go to the high end grocery stores. He would be able to use real wine to cook things with, not just the cheap box wines. Hey, no judgment, his food was still delicious regardless. “Plus, Derek has so much faith in me, look what he gave me.”

Lydia made grabby hands before taking the card from him and holding it out before her. She let out a low whistle, “A black AMEX? Very nice." She tilted her head to the side and smirked, “You know what they say. Once you go black, you _never_ go back."

Stiles let out a cackle, yanking the card out of her hands sliding the card home back into his wallet. “Lydia you’re the worst.”

“You love me,” the woman said with a roll of her eyes. “Now tell me about the menu you’re thinking of serving.” Another reason why he loved this woman, she was his sounding board and had no trouble telling him when something didn’t fit or was flat out ridiculous. He silently thanked her parents for throwing so many parties when she was growing up.


	3. Trial dinner that my entire financial future relies on? No pressure.

Stiles mentally ran over everything in his checklist as he went about stirring the four pots he had going on the stove methodically. Almost everything was set on the table, the man dish being kept warm in the oven. The champagne was being chilled next to the coffee table over in the living room. It was all coming together better than he could have imagined. He had this. He totally had this in the bag the recipes he found online combined with some improvising on his part really paid off. Stiles shimmied around the kitchen, his hips swaying rhythmically to the music in his head as he ducked into the fridge to grab some heavy cream.

When he turned around, he had to press himself back against the door of the refrigerator, resisting the urge to flail epically. Isaac had just entered from the service entrance, arms laden with bags that he hefted on the the counter on the island beside the stove. Stiles drew in a deep breath, trying to steel himself. he could get through this even with the other man making snide remarks about him or his capabilities. His food would speak for itself.

Trying to be the bigger man did not stop him from sticking out his tongue at the back of the other man’s head. As he moved around Isaac back to the stove pouring the cream into one of the pans. “What are those?” He was trying not to bristle at Isaac being in his space, but it was difficult not to. Stiles felt like the other man was invading what was supposed to be his domain purposefully. Maybe when he got the job he could try to lay down the law. This would be his kitchen, and no one barged into it-- especially when he was busy.

“Oh, these?” Isaac peaked into one of the bags before he turned to grin at the chef. He was still clutching the bags as if he were afraid that Stiles was going to do something to sabotage whatever was in there. “They’re the backup dinner for tonight. Compliments of, you guessed, Mahealani.”

“Isaac, dude,” Stiles said exasperatedly as he wiped his hand on his apron before stepping closer to the PA. If he got this job, this guy was going to be the biggest speed bump in the history of speed bumps. He had to find a way to get on his good side. Maybe later he could get Lydia’s opinion on this whole situation after he officially landed the job. “You don’t need a back up dinner, this is going to be awesome. Look,” He took a step back and gestured toward the crisp white linens and appetizers already set up on the dining room table, complete with a vase of silver roses. It was impressive, if he said so himself. Stiles fucking rocked at romance, apparently. Why was he single again?!

Isaac shook his head, “So you can set a table. Big deal. Just admit it, you’re going to mess this up somehow and I’ll get my man.” He paused, shaking his head and letting out a small chuckle. “I mean, get my _way_ eventually.”

Stiles rolled his eyes before forcing a smile at the PA, noting his outfit briefly. The man was wearing a charcoal cardigan and white t-shirt with a pair of tight turquoise jeans. Of course, accompanied with his ever present scarf, though, today it was plaid. “Keep telling yourself that buddy. Wait--” The chef leaned forward, drawing in a breath through his nose. Damnit. Of course Chef Danny’s food smelled ah-mazing. “Damn, that smells really good.”

“Of course it does,” Isaac scoffed, staring at him incredulously. “Look who made it.” The man got a far off look in his eyes, clearly thinking about the Top Chef contestant. He snapped back to reality after a couple of moments, shaking his head, “Now! I’ll be in the den, waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Before Isaac made it out from the kitchen area, they heard a creak from the stair case that drew their attention. Derek had just stepped onto the stairs that led down from his bedroom suite. He looked phenomenal, Stiles felt his mouth grow dry as he looked at the man before him.He was wearing a tailored three-piece suite in light grey that left little to the imagination about how fit he was, Stiles felt himself swallowing, trying not to stare _too_ much. Though, the most endearing part of his whole change of appearance were the black framed glasses that sat upon his face. 

“Aw! You look so handsome!” Stiles and Isaac said in unison, bringing them to share a look between each other before looking back towards Derek who was grinning to himself, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. It was almost as if he wasn’t used to the flattery. Which, Stiles could _not_ understand. The man was flat out gorgeous. If he wasn’t a tech genius, he probably could have been a model or an actor. People this good looking should exist in the real world.

“This... is my lucky suit,” he announced as he practically skipped the last couple of steps. He walked over to the kitchen area and flashed a brilliant smile at Stiles. It made his stomach drop, being on the receiving end of a look that open and happy. God, how was it possible for him to get even more attractive? His life was seriously unfair. “I closed four deals acquiring companies in this suit.”

Derek adjusted his tie, watching as the chef went back to stirring three different pots methodically like it was second nature. “So, how is everything going?” The billionaire asked, nervousness coloring his tone. Stiles could tell that he really cared for this Kate person. He really hoped this night worked out for him.

“Oh, buddy,” Stiles stirred the last pot and turned one of the burners down before grabbing the tablet that controlled the lighting and music in the downstairs area. He nodded toward the dining area. “Look at those appetizers? She will be wowed _just_ from that. And, if that’s not enough?” Stiles hit a button and music started blaring. he may have danced around a little mouthing the words.

“Is this... Is this Tegan and Sara?” Derek asked as Stiles walked around mouthing the words into a wooden spoon, he turned towards the other man and winked at him as for confirmation. He hadn’t expected the man to know the song, not that he really knew what kind of music he listened to. It was a nice surprise, Stiles _loved_ Tegan and Sara. 

“Mmmhm," Stiles paused his dancing to turn the music up slightly. “This is my favorite song, it’s just... Ugh. The perfect relationship song. I dare your girlfriend not to love this song. , _I_ would accept a proposal to this song.”

Derek started humming along with the song grabbing one of the spoons and tasting the caramel glaze letting out a low appreciative noise, “This tastes amazing.” There was a buzzing in his pocket, drawing the man’s attention away from the food. He placed the utensil back on the spoon rest. “Oh,” Derek pulls out his phone and grins, holding out the phone to Stiles. “It’s Kate, isn’t she beautiful?” 

Stiles got a glimpse of blonde hair and a smiling face before Derek tapped on the screen to answer the call, putting the phone to his ear, a fond smile curving his lips. “Hey hun...” He paused, his expression becoming pinched for a moment as he pulled the phone away from his ear to glance at the screen of his phone. “Wait. I can’t really hear you. Give me a second.”

Stiles watched as Derek walked out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him. Wiping his hands on his apron, the chef decided it was time for a little last minute confidence boost. He pulled out his cell and hit speed dial number two. It only took two rings for the strawberry blonde to answer.

“Lydia!” Stiles turned down the heat on the gravy to low just to keep it warm. “Hey, everything is going great. Like amazing. He likes my set up, thinks the food smells _ah_ mazing, and even digs my music choice.” He punched his fist in the air, unable to hide the giddiness that was rushing through him. This was going so incredibly well that it was scary. This was a serious first for him and he was going to ride this out until the end. The end that meant he was getting a well paying job with health care.

 _“Mmmhm..."_ There was a pause, Stiles could barely hear the television playing in the background. _"Just remember Stiles, you are a warrior. You’re battling for your life and you will do whatever, whatever it takes to make it out on top.”_

Stiles paused halfway to putting the cheesecake into the fridge to set for dessert. One eyebrow raised, “Lydia, are you watching the Hunger Games again?” She was seriously obsessed with that movie. Not that he faulted her, it was just that she watched it at least once a week if not more. He thought that maybe she took it a little bit to heart; not that it wasn’t a great movie and book series, Stiles had gone through them all in less than a week.

The woman scoffed on the other end of the line, like there was something that Stiles just couldn't wrap his head around but would really change his entire world view. _“You don’t just watch The Hunger Games... you study it.”_

“Ooookay. Good talk,” Stiles took that moment to hang up on one of his best friends. 

He tucked his phone into the back pocket of his pants just in time for his attention to be drawn towards Derek who was re-entering the penthouse. Stiles frowned, noticing that the man looked a bit pale, certainly paler than he was a few minutes ago. He was staring at his phone in his left hand almost in disbelief.

“I...” Derek started quietly before clearing his throat. “I don’t think Kate’s going to arrive when we expected her.”

“Oh," Stiles nodded, glancing back down to the food that he was basically done, running over in his head how long he could keep things warm before they got weird and the dinner was beyond salvaging. He looked up towards Derek, flashing him a reassuring smile. “That’s all right. Totally cool. I can keep this warm for about an hour or so.”

“You’re going to have to keep it warm for a long time...” The billionaire pursed his lips together as he looked up at Stiles, his expression turning towards confused as his lips curved downward into a frown and his eyebrows drew together. “She... Kate wants a break. She wants to see other people. I... I don’t remember exactly what she said. Something about moving too fast?” Derek lifted one hand in the air, shrugging slightly. “It’s kind of hard to pay attention to details when you’re whole world is crumbling around you.”


	4. The lengths we go to secure a job... Champagne does not help these decisions. FYI

Stiles stood in the kitchen biting his fingernails with Erica and Isaac on either side of him. “Guys,” The chef was starting to panic a bit, really floundering at what to do in this situation. If he knew Derek, like one of his friends, he would know exactly how to cheer him up. Everyone was different. Some people wanted to talk it over, maybe with alcohol and tons of food. Others liked avoidance, maybe a movie or video game. Hell, even going out to a bar to drink and maybe even pick up a rebound for the night. But, the glaring fact still stood that he didn’t actually know Derek so he had no clue how to proceed. 

Aside from his poor potential boss’s personal life unraveling at the seams, none of his food was even touched. None of it. Not even a nibble. So... Did that mean that he didn’t get the job? Was this like a thing that he could reschedule or something? If he didn’t get the job, that was in no way fair. If he ever met this Kate person, he was going to straight up slap her.

“You know what really matters here?” Isaac said quietly as he gazed somberly at his boss. Stiles raised a brow dubiously, not at all liking the mischievous gleam in his baby blue eyes. “That your dinner was a complete disaster." He turned towards Stiles, a smirk curving his lips, his arms crossed about his chest as he rested his hip against the counter. Fuck, he looked downright gleeful. Stiles was not a violent person by nature, but he really just wanted to smack this man square in the face. See his expression fall like carefully placed dominoes. “And now, every single time Derek looks at you, he’s going to be reminded of the worst night of his life. Hooray!"

Isaac flashed a grin at Stiles before all but skipping away, muttering to himself about calling Danny as he exited the room. Crap. Stiles turned towards Erica, thinking of her as probably his last life line. She had to have some sort of insight to Derek, some slight idea of how to move forward in this situation. “Erica, what am I going to do? I really, _really_ need this job.”

The blonde patted him on the shoulder, her brown eyes looking at him with sympathy. “It’ll all work out Stiles, you’ll see. This break up? It was a long time coming. Just, you know, give it some time and... Oh crap!” Her eyes cut to the clock that hung on the wall a few feet behind Stiles before she ducked under the counter into a drawer to take out black clutch purse. “It’s eight o’clock. I have to go, I have a nail appointment in fifteen minutes. These cuticles need some serious work. Good luck!”

He couldn’t help his mouth dropping in shock as he watched the woman rush out of the penthouse. _Guess there goes the sage advice,_ Stiles rolled his eyes soundly before turning his gaze back on Derek. The man was still sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, the tips of his fingers now in his hair, mussing up the perfectly styled tresses. He looked like wrecked, completely miserable in every single possible way. So freaking destroyed that Stiles just wanted to hug him to pieces.

Stiles drew in a deep breath, he couldn’t just leave the man to his own devices, he definitely did not need to be alone right now. He needed some source of comfort. He set his shoulders as he walked over to the couch, gingerly setting himself down beside Derek. This was certainly not how he pictured his night going. No, he was not supposed to try and console the billionaire; he was supposed to wow the couple with his food and land the job like he was freaking made for it. This? This was not going right at all. Though, even more that, even more than not wanting to have to scramble to several other interviews and pour over job ads yet again, Stiles just really wanted to make Derek feel better. He seemed so sweet... He definitely did not deserve this. “Hey Derek...” Stiles started, placing a cautious hand on the older man’s shoulder. “How, uh, how are you doing?”

Derek let out a grown before lifting his head, looking at Stiles with his lips set in a deep frown. “Horrible.” The man allowed his shoulders slump forward, shrinking in on himself slightly. “I just... I feel so empty.”

“I know big guy, it’s going to hurt for a while,” His grip tightened on the older man’s shoulder, trying to show some sort of comfort. Derek probably wanted to be alone right now, wallow for a while in his misery. But, he didn’t think that the man should be alone right now. He needed comfort, he needed companionship. Hell, he needed to get _drunk._

The chef straightened up, his expression brightening as he realized what he could do to help remedy the situation. “But! You feel so empty because you’re hungry. I’ll fix you a plate. Remember, I know exactly what you want.”

Stiles hustled over towards the table and piled a good portion of mashed potatoes on the plate. He really wasn’t thinking about taking advantage of the situation. Sure, he still needed to sell his cooking to the man, but no was not the time. Well, sure if this helped his case, then why the hell not? But, really, he just felt bad for the guy. Kate might not have known that he was going to propose tonight, but she _had_ to know how much Derek cared for her. It was clear as freaking day, and this was coming from someone who only knew him for two days. The way she broke it off with him, over the fucking phone, it was cowardly and callous. Derek deserved at least some closure. It wasn’t right by a long shot.

“Stiles,” Derek said his voice as a sigh, sounding completely weary. He stood up from the couch as he slid his suit jacket off to drape it over the back of the couch. Stiles noted the man rubbing the back of his neck as he shuffled toward the stairs. “Nothing is going to make me feel better at this point. I’m done, I need to just go to bed and hopefully forget this night ever happened. Well,” Derek paused scrubbing a hand over his face, “Until tomorrow.”

He reigned in his flailing, going for broke as he took a few steps closer to Derek. He had no idea, not the faintest clue if this was going to work, like at all. But, again, he had to try. Even if sometimes he hated certain people. if someone he liked, even vaguely, he had to try and help them. He at least had to try. Food, after all, was a great healer. And Derek looked so wrecked that he definitely needed a friend, needed something, anything, no matter how small it was, to make him feel that much better. “Not even mashed potatoes?”

Derek slowed to a stop before turning on his heel, his hands stilled from where they were loosening the tie around his neck. “Mashed potatoes?” He repeated slowly, eyebrows drawn together in confusion, not getting where Stiles was going with this, even though his expression was contemplative.

“With...” The chef looked down at the plate in his hands as he took the spoon to gather a mouthful. _C’mon, Stilinski, hook line and sinker._ He tilted his head to the side, offering a crooked smile. “Lots of cream and butter.”

Letting out a huff of air, Derek slid his hands into the confines of his pants pockets, looking down at the carpeted floor. Derek looked bashful, Stiles couldn’t help the flutter in the pit of his stomach as he looked at the older man. The slightly older man let out a huff of air, one that seemed to border on laughter, broken laughter... hell, maybe it could be aptly described as vague amusement-- Stiles would take the small brightening of the stubble jawed man over the despair that had recently seemed to cover him like a grey rain cloud. “I... like cream and butter.” The billionaire pursed his lips, it looked like he was debating this, like a kid dragging his feet before giving in. Stiles tried (and utterly failed) at not finding it adorable.

Stiles took a few steps closer toward Derek, looking at his potential boss for a minute. He was trying not to think that he looked incredibly cute being bashful as he looked at his feet. Stiles reigned in his hypothetical feelings and took one step closer towards Derek. “And bacon?”

Derek raised his gaze to meet Stiles’ and the chef took action without really thinking about it. He lifted the spoonful of mashed potatoes and fed it to Derek, who thankfully opened his mouth and ate it without question. The man’s eyes closed as he let out a sound of appreciation that bordered on a moan, “So good.”

Stiles grinned as the plate was taken away from him, the man going to town on the serving of mashed potatoes, The billionaire walked over to the table and slid into a seat. Stiles followed suite, settling at the head of the table as he watched Derek shove spoonful after spoonful into his mouth. Which was good, at least Derek was doing more than wallowing in his misery. 

Suddenly, Derek looked up, staring at Stiles for a moment as he swallowed his food, “You’re not going to make me eat alone... are you?”

“Well, it’s really unprofessional...” Stiles looked down at the ground for a moment, mulling over his options. But, he really couldn’t let Derek be alone after all of this. He was pretty much committed to the man and his well-being, if only for the night. The guy just looked so damn miserable and his eyes were so pleading that, really, he didn’t have any other choice. “But, I hear the food here is really good, so I’ll make an exception.”

~*~

Stiles put his feet up on one of the spare chairs, enjoying the feeling of stretching his legs after a long days work, letting out a small groan as he flexed his feet now that his shoes were strewn on the balcony floor. He glanced at Derek, who was practically licking his plate clean. Above all else, Stiles knew that the man enjoyed his food. At least he could do that, even the smallest bright spot in this day was worth everything right now. Even if he didn’t get the job, at least he helped brighten Derek’s otherwise shit-tastic day of doom.

Derek lifted his glass towards Stiles, flashing a small yet toothy smile, “Cheers.... To mashed potatoes.”

Stiles let out a small laugh as he picked up his own glass to clink against Derek’s with a small _clink_. “Cheers. And, hey! Cheers to my favorite kind of champagne... free!” Stiles brought the glass back towards his mouth and took a slow sip. He knew that he should pace himself more, but he was enjoying himself way too much to think too much on the matter. He probably didn’t even have a job anymore, so he might as well enjoy himself.

“This meal was great..." Derek said quietly as he placed his half full glass back on the table. He chuckled quietly shaking before looking towards Stiles, “No, not great, it kicked ass.” The man turned in his seat towards Stiles, eying him contemplatively. “Thank you. It... It really helped.”

“I knew it would,” Stiles paused, swirling his drink around in the glass for a moment. He knew that he should keep this professional. But... Being around Derek, it didn’t feel like a job. They felt like friends, friends that trusted each other with secrets. Stiles cleared his throat looking away, out into the distance of twinkling lights provided from the balcony. “When my mom died, I used to make special meals for my dad all the time... It really cheered him up. I mean, as much as he could be cheered up anyway.”

Derek hummed, taking a piece of fried zucchini and taking a bite of it. “That was nice of you. I’m sure your dad appreciated it.”

Stiles cleared his throat, taking his feet off the other seat and inadvertently leaning closer towards Derek as the conversation went on. “Thanks. She taught me how to cook and we used to watch Julia Child together religiously...” He shook his head, images of a younger him and his mother hanging out in the kitchen trying out whatever recipe struck his mother’s fancy that day.God, he missed her something fierce. He had no idea how different his life would be if she had been around longer, if it would have changed the person he was today. He consoled himself by thinking that whatever changes would have occurred, he still would’ve been himself... just... better. That had been the kind of influence his mother had on people. “I, uh, I kind of worshiped her. Julia. My mom. Well, both of them really.”

“Really?" Derek’s eyes bored into his, the stare was as intense as the man himself. Stiles wanted to run his hand along the sides of his face, map out the stubble and commit it to memory. Which... No. He needed to not think of Derek that way. Boss. Asexual boss from his perspective. “I did my thesis on Julia. She was a business genius as well as a great cook. my dad tried to learn how to cook for my mother’s birthday one year growing up... it was a disaster.” Derek let out a chuckle before becoming somber, “You must really miss her.”

“Yep. Every day.” Stiles paused taking a slow sip of the champagne, smiling brightly when Derek offered to top off his glass. “She was the best.”

Derek paused for a moment, gnawing on his lower lip for a moment. His eyes lifted to meet Stiles’ for a moment which seemed to relax him visibly. “I know how that is. Uh, there was a fire when I was younger, faulty wires...”

Stiles couldn’t help his eyebrows lifting in shock, sure he probably could have found some of this out on the Internet but his research for the job had only been cursory (and just before the impromptu interview Wednesday). He immediately though the worst. People never really started a lighthearted story after talking about one’s deceased parent. Which also meant that Derek was sharing with him, hell they were straight up bonding. Did this make them friends? Yep they were totally bros now. Boss-Employee bros!! An epic bromance of work proportions was in their future, clearly. Ehhhh, maybe Stiles was a little tipsy from the champagne by now. It was really good champagne, at least as far as he could tell.

The billionaire looked a little, out of sorts? No, that wasn’t the right term, _awkward_ , awkward was definitely the correct term here, as he spun the stem of his glass between his fingers. “It was during a family reunion. My parents used to insist that everyone stay at our house; no matter how cramped it would get.” Derek cleared his throat before lifting the glass to take a slow sip of the champagne. “Most of them were sleeping when it happened.Only myself, my two sisters and uncle survived.”

Sure, Stiles was thinking worst case scenario here but he thought maybe a small fatality, maybe just the loss of their childhood home. Not this. Derek had lost nearly his entire family in one fell swoop. It was fucking tragic as hell. Stiles put a hand to his chest as his mouth worked around the shock that this revelation brought on, “Derek I--”

“It’s okay, Stiles, I know.” The older man cut him off, words coming out in a rush. He turned his head to the side, drawing in a deep calming breath as he looked out in the distance taking in the skyline. “Thank you.”

There was a long pause that settled between them, but Stiles didn’t think that it felt uncomfortable. He took a few sips of his champagne, letting his eyes linger on his boss contemplatively as. This man had been through a lot, so much in his life that abrupt change taking away so much from him.. And yet, he still was this huge success. He still managed to get dressed in the morning and do something with his life. Stiles was....Well, he was in awe of this man. How someone could dump a man this nice and accomplished so callously was freaking beyond him.

“After that, I threw myself into school, became kind of a loner and I guess it paid off.” Derek looked almost embarrassed, as if he didn’t brag often. Or, maybe, Stiles thought, that he was used to people making their own assumptions as to his success, not used to having to discuss it on his own. “CEO of my own tech company at twenty-six. I like to think they’d be proud. My mother might tell me to get out more and live a little,” Derek let out a laugh as he rubbed his thumb across his cheek. “But proud.”

Stiles reached over and put his hand over Derek’s empathetically. His thumb caressed the side of the other man’s hand, moving rhythmically back and forth in what Stiles thought was in attempts to be comforting. “I know they would be. You’re a great guy. Any one would be damn lucky to have you.”

Derek ducked his head to hide his blush but Stiles thinks he can even see his ears turn red at the top a bit. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

~*~

The first thing that registered to him was that his head was freaking killing him. Not just a mild ache, but full ‘ _OWWW!! Re-thinking my entire life choices_ ’ type of way. The last thing he remembered was being on the balcony with Derek. After that? Nothing. It was kind of a blur. At least it seemed like he got home alright.

Stiles stretched his arms before pausing, going stark still as he came into contact with a headboard-- something which he certainly did not have. Heck, He didn’t even have a real mattress frame, just some wooden pallets he scored from the local grocery store. And his headboard was his wall. Not... He cracked his eyes open, looking above his head, gun metal grey book shelf headboard. 

Wait.

Stiles turned his head to the side and everything skidded to a halt. 

What.

In.

The. 

Actual.

Fuck.

On the other side of the bed was one of the most gorgeous men Stiles had ever seen. The downside? Well... That man was his boss. HIS BOSS. His trial dinner had been kind of saved and then Stiles had to get drunk and sleep with his boss. 

“Oh fuck,” Stiles whispered before pulling the covers over his head, trying to muffle any hyper ventilating that might be happening at any moment. Okay, okay. There had to be a perfectly good explanation for this. He crashed here. With Derek. After drinking. Nothing really happene-- Stiles took stock of his body, flexing his muscles before letting out a whimper. God. He definitely had sex last night. Fuck.

After a few deep inhales of air that were meant to calm him, panic set in and Stiles practically vaulted out of the bed. He glanced back at the still sleeping man in his bed, afraid that he had woken him up. Luckily, Derek was still laying there sleeping soundly. “Damnit! I slept with my boss. Who even does that?!” Stiles whispered harshly to himself before glancing down at himself. Lovely. He knew this was not his shirt, this shirt was lose on him like it was meant for someone with way more muscles, someone like, let’s say.... _Derek_. It was rumpled and hung loose on his frame, buttoned haphazardly and totally, _completely_ uneven. God. He probably looked completely debauched. What in the hell happened last night?

Okay, he could contemplate all his shame and disappointment in himself and his drunken decisions when he got home and had the assistance of carbs. Right now, he really needed to find his clothes and get the hell out of Dodge. Stiles scrubbed a hand through his hair while his eyes darted around the carpet floor. Aha! He leaned down and picked up one of his favorite and most comfortable shoes. Okay, that’s one. Stiles spins around, spotting nothing. No trace of his maroon jeans or the black shirt he had been wearing. Let alone, his other shoe. He liked these shoes. He got them to the perfect broken in point and they matched basically everything.

“Where’s my other shoe? I paid nineteen dollars for them!” Stiles whispered to himself as he got down on his knees and ducked under the bed to see if any thing somehow got chucked under there. Of course, no luck there.

“Yoo hoo, Kate,” An unfamiliar voice sounded from just outside the door, managing to make Stiles jolt up to sit back on his heels and stir Derek from his slumber. Stiles looked at him with wide eyes, completely unsure as to how to act right now. He really needed some time to mull over everything and talk it over with Lydia or Scott. Derek looked massively hungover, squinting and moving a hand to his head. It was amazing that despite the situation, the man still managed to look freaking adorable enough that Stiles is questioning how this was even his life. Their gazes locked for a brief moment, Stiles barely able to register that he probably looks ridiculous sitting beside the bed, clutching his lone shoe to his chest. “It’s your future sister in law!!”

“Uh, Stiles,” Derek’s voice is rough and unused after sleeping; ~~it was so alluring~~ it definitely should not be sending shivers down Stiles’ spine. Nope. Not at all. And, goddamnit. His stupid bed head wasn’t supposed to make him want to kiss _his boss_ senseless. “Did we...?”

Stiles licked his lips nervously, unable to break eye contact with the other man. “Yep,” He drew out he word, making the last letter pop audibly.

Derek has the grace to look almost ashamed, his eyebrows drawing together in a firm line across his forehead, confusion writ across his features. “Are you sure?”

“So, so sure.” Stiles whispers a little breathlessly, eyes closing for a moment since he knows, _he knows_ that he’s sore in the best possible way. That his body aches in a way that makes him wish that he actually could remember what happened last night. That he could remember how Derek was in bed. Because... Damn. His gaze drifted to the man’s bare chest. For a Tech CEO, he sure was built. No, not just built, chiseled. Like out of marble.

“Wake up you little lovebirds.” There was an impatient knock on the door, the woman’s knuckles colliding with the wood three times , even her melodious voice was sounding a bit strained. “You better not be naked because there’s only so much therapy can do to help!”

Derek startled, uncovering himself and shooting to his feet. Thankfully, he was wearing a pair of sinfully tight black boxer briefs... Which, actually, not so thankfully, as the height differential made Stiles face level with his crotch. Let‘s just say that the underwear left little to the imagination. “Shit, it’s Laura. Hide. Holy crap hide.”

The billionaire helped Stiles to his feet and began herding him towards the walk in closet. There was a determined look on the man’s face that said he would rather face down a twenty-one gun salute than have Laura find out about this. Which, rude. Stiles did not like to feel like a dirty little secret. 

Stiles put his hands out to the side, gripping the frame of the closet so Derek couldn‘t shut him in. This was flat out ridiculous. There was no way this was an actual thing that was happening. “Dude, no! I am not hiding in your closet!”

“It’s my sister, please."Derek spared a glance toward his bedroom door, his eyes pleading with Stiles while panic set about his features.

“Wait! I am not good with small spaces.” With that Derek shoved him in the closet and Stiles heard a click.. which... no uh uh. Fuck! he tried the handle to no avail before sinking to the ground, still holding his shoe. He could hear muffled voices in the room but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Not that it was any of his business because this was a mistake and a drunken mistake (with his boss). Stiles let out a sigh and closed his eyes, hoping that Derek’s conversation was over and done with soon so he could risk his walk of shame and get home with at least some of his dignity intact.

He was so, completely and utterly screwed.


	5. The Aftermath

“So...” Lydia poured an unhealthy amount of chocolate sauce into the pint of cookie dough ice cream that was propped up on a pillow in Stiles’ lap. He had gotten home not twenty minutes ago, halting the dish session only to quickly changed out of his pants from last night and Derek’s button up that he had kept on in his rush to get the hell out of there. Feeling like a complete ass, he changed into his most comfortable pair of sweatpants and his tattered Stud Muffin graphic t-shirt from high school. 

Stiles picked up his spoon and stabbed the contents of the carton. The pair sat close on the couch, Stiles even noticed that his roommate decided to change out of her regular outfit and donned comfortable clothes with him. Solidarity. “You were locked in there?”

“Yeah,” He breathed, gathering a spoonful of ice cream on to the spoon and devouring it. It was amazing, their emergency stash of ice cream was probably the only thing they allowed themselves not to cut corners on-- Lydia had her salted caramel gelato for her really bad days, Stiles had three rotating Ben & Jerry’s flavors that were proven to help him feel better about whatever was going wrong in his life. “For about maybe four hours before Erica found me and let me out.”

Lydia hummed, “I’m not even going to make a crack about you going into the closet for Derek.” The red head said with her eyebrows raised, like she was being the bigger person by not teasing him mercilessly in his dire state of being. Stiles was certain that this would come up later, when he was well past this and was able to laugh about it. Well, probably laugh _and_ groan over it. He didn’t think that would happen for some time. 

Stiles devoured another mouthful of ice cream, trying to wrap his mind around what he was going to do now. He thought he had landed the best job out there and he completely and utterly screwed it up. Literally. Now what was he going to do? Go after those jobs that paid minimum wage or, at best a dollar or two more? He couldn’t afford rent at those wages. That meant he was going to be homeless and more likely than not, having to move back home with his dad. Still, at least he had some place to go back to. He just wasn’t one to simply return home with his tail between his legs. 

“Stiles,” The red head started in what Stiles dubbed as her sympathetic but no-nonsense tone. “You really messed this up. Not even in a cute, fumbling sort of way. This is a colossal screw up for the one good, no not good _great_ job opportunity you had.”   
Stiles didn’t have to look up to know that her round green eyes were wide and staring openly at him, not judging him per se, patiently waiting for him to mourn his drunken decisions and come to terms with the shit-show that was his life. He let out a groan, chucking the spoon into the carton. “Yeah, I know. Believe me, _I know_.” A big part of Stiles was stuck crying on the inside, grieving over the fact that he was parted from that sub zero refrigerator forever. Clearly that was the biggest tragedy here. 

‘We... We were drunk and I was just trying to cheer him up. I don’t know what happened.” Even now, he could only remember fragments of the night. Moments stolen away in an alcohol haze. Apart from the whole axe over his career as a personal chef, it didn’t feel like it had been wrong. Though, the hours spent in the closet seemed to argue otherwise. Why was this so complicated to wrap his mind around? How did his memories, fuzzy as they may be, seem like he did the right thing and what they did was, not to sound ridiculous, but special. It couldn’t be the start of something, but it was still... Nice. Fuck. If only he could remember the rest of the night. Hell, even if he could remember the sex to put that in his spank bank for the next couple of months while he undoubtedly remained painfully single.

Stiles set down the pint of ice cream on the coffee table and stood up walking away from the couch for a momentary breather. The ice cream wasn’t as comforting as it should have been, being confronted with the error of his ways was bearing down on him harder than he thought it might. He let out a sigh before stating rather dejectedly, “It’s not like it was going to go anywhere.”

“Wait,” Lydia sat forward on the couch, tilting her head to the side as she twirled a strand of strawberry blonde hair around a perfectly manicured finger. “Do you _want_ it to go anywhere?”

He whipped around, hands on his hips with his eyebrows arched high across his forehead. “No. I hate gorgeous smart men with tons of money,” Stiles dead-panned. He walked toward the door of their apartment and fiddled with the chain lock that Lydia insisted on installing a couple of months back. “But, it doesn’t matter. He’s totally out of my league. Like whatever happened last night was a fluke and I shouldn’t even be on his radar. He’s just too good for me.” 

“Snap out of it Stilinski!" The woman snapped, getting to her feet and dropping the carton in her hands next to his. Lydia took a few steps closer to Stiles whacking him on the arm, for a dainty thing she certainly hit hard; and this wasn’t the first time he was on the receiving end of one of her patented ‘Get it together’ love taps. “He is, or was, your boss. Not some guy you have feelings for.”

Stiles felt his shoulders slumping forward in defeat. He knew that she was right. Even if their night had been good, the talking and bonding (actively ignoring the sex that had happened), at the end of the day Derek was still his boss. “You’re right, Lydia. It was just one night, rebound on his part after just being dumped. I don’t have feelings for him. I have absolutely no feels for him. Zero, zilch, nada...Ohmygod.”

He stalked toward the kitchen, eyes darting around everywhere looking for the twelve inch case that housed his prize possessions of his trade. He did not... Please please please...

“What?” Lydia sounded confused and concerned, clearly having no idea what Stiles was looking for and why the hell he was panicking right now. “You _do_ have feelings for him? Stiles?”

They weren’t here. He remembered bringing them for the trial dinner since the set that were in the kitchen were no better than steak knives. But, in his rush to leave he hadn’t gathered his belongings from the kitchen. Fuck. “What? don’t know. Maybe. I barely know the guy.” Stiles slumped against the counter, a frown curving his lips. “I left my kitchen knives there. In the freaking penthouse. Damnit. They cost more than my car.”

“Oh,” Lydia lifted her hand to inspect her nails, unimpressed. “Well, you better go get them. We’re going to need them if we’re evicted. We’ll definitely need them if we have to crash at Scott and Allison’s. Their neighborhood is terrible.”

“Great. Awesome.” As if his day couldn’t get any worse, he had to go back to the penthouse to pick up his belongings. He would have to face his almost co-workers... God. He prayed to whatever diety that might be listening that Isaac was _not_ there. The PA probably already had him replaced and was watching Chef Danny cook with hearts in his eyes.

~*~

This was even worse than a walk of shame and, admittedly, Stiles would know from first hand experience. It was one time, so sue him. He hung his head and drew in a deep breath as he knocked on the service entrance door. Once again, he prayed silently that it wasn’t Isaac. He would either feel violent urges or die of embarrassment on the spot seeing the glee of his failure emanating from the man.

His prayers were answered when Erica opened the door, not saying a word as she gestured for him to come in. She closed the door behind them and Stiles bit his lip, trying to think of something to say to the woman who found him half naked locked in her boss’s closet a couple of hours ago. Thanking her seemed, well, awkward to say the least.

“Stiles,” The woman crossed her arms as she cocked her head to the side, warm brown eyes stared at him sympathetically. “You scared the crap out me earlier! I almost used my Krav Maga moves on on you. Which would have been bad news for you, my instructor says I’m at the top of my class.”

“Thank god for small miracles,” He let out a chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He wanted to get in and out with the minor amount of embarrassment. He had no idea how much Erica knew about the whole situation, just because she found him in the closet wearing someone else’s shirt could mean anything, right? Sure, maybe he was in a state of denial, but, who could blame him? “About that... I, uh, I was just trying to make Derek feel better. Cheer him up, you know. You saw the state he was in when you left.”

Erica hummed thoughtfully before lifting an eyebrow, “Ever heard of sending an edible arrangement? Or...” The woman grinned wickedly at him, leaning forward into his personal space as if they were sharing a secret. “Was that your own personal version of one?”

Great. She knew. Of course she knew, Stiles deflated letting out a huff of air before her turned to continue on his mission towards the kitchen. He needed to get his things and get out without further incident. This was worse than the time when he was a temp in an office and at a holiday party his coworkers convinced a tipsy Stiles to streak through the office. What? How was he to know there was a meeting going on in the boardroom? He was only a temp. “Yeah, I know. I screwed up.”

“You screwed something all right,” Erica muttered behind him, Stiles decided to ignore her for the moment.

When they made it into the kitchen, Stiles couldn’t hold back his audible groan. Isaac was sitting at the breakfast bar drinking coffee and reading something on his kindle. The curly haired man looked up and grinned widely at the sight of Stiles, clearly excited to be around when the cook showed up. “Well well well... Look who’s here. The personal chef that got _too_ personal.”

“Hilarious,” Stiles gritted out, trying to calm himself down so he didn’t flip out and cause a scene. That would just be the cherry on top of the situation. “Look, I just came here for my knives.”

Isaac nodded, picking up his mug and holding it before himself with both hands. “They’re on the counter... Next to your dignity.”

“Stop it Isaac,” Erica snapped harshly, walking across the kitchen to pick up Stiles’ belongings and holding them out for him. Stiles wanted to worship at her feet for a moment, the perfect goddess that she was. Coming to his aide like that. “Can’t you see he’s humiliated enough? Just leave it be. Like you haven’t screwed up royally before.”

The man took a sip of his coffee before setting it down on the counter. He pushed himself up out of the chair and walked around the island to face Stiles. “Fine, alright. I’m sorry, I have been a little petty.” Isaac looked down for a moment, looking almost chastized for about two whole seconds. It was probably a record for him. “I guess, the only thing I have to say is... I’m calling Danny Maheleani!”

Stiles glared daggers at Isaac’s back as he sauntered out of the room. “I kind of hate him. He needs a swift kick in the ass.”

Erica closed the distance between them and patted the cook on the side of his face. “Isaac’s not all bad. I think you would’ve liked him if you got to know him.” The blonde pursed her lips together, staring calculatedly at Stiles for a moment. “For what it’s worth, you’re a really good chef. And, I’ve never seen Derek more panicked than when he remembered about forgetting about you this morning. You should talk to him before you go.”

He watched with his mouth agape as the woman left the kitchen, wondering what in the hell that meant. Why would Derek be worried about him? To apologize for locking him in there like a dirty little secret? Or, just for forgetting about him in general?

The doorbell chimed causing Stiles to startle and turn towards the living room. Just in time to see Derek rushing down the stairs to all but run to the door and rip it open. On the other side of the door was a woman. Kate, Stiles remembered absently from the brief glance at her picture on Derek’s phone. She was tall and blonde, her navy blue dress showed off her legs that went for days. She was completely put together with a sardonic looking smile plastered on her face. Stiles couldn’t help it, maybe it was after what she put him through or residual feelings for the man that he was definitely not contemplating right no; whatever the reasoning behind it, Stiles hated her instantly.

“Kate, what are you doing here?” Derek sounded utterly confused, like he had been expecting someone else at the door, definitely not her. He took a step back to let little miss high society walked in. No, not walk, the woman practically strutted her way into the penthouse.

She paused near the end of the couch and took off her black sunglasses before turning to face Derek who had followed her, not bothering to close the door in his apparent shock. “Der-bear,” the blonde said, putting a hand to the billionaire’s chest jutting out her lower lip in a pout. “I’m so sorry for last night.”

Derek looked away from the woman, staring intently at the ground as he put his hands within the confines of his pants pockets. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I should have seen it coming.”

Stiles felt rooted to the spot, unsure of how the hell neither one of them noticed him standing not even fifteen feet away from them. What he should do is make his presence known or just walk out of the kitchen and use the service entrance to get the hell out of here before he was forced to talk to Derek. Should being the operative word. Stiles panicked and, to be honest, he found himself morbidly curious about what happened between Derek and Kate. He didn’t think that Derek should take her back, he deserved way better than her. He definitely deserved someone who wouldn’t treat him like her own personal yo-yo. 

What Stiles _shouldn’t_ do is duck down behind the counter, peering around the edge to watch the scene unfold before him. He felt like an asshole. Spying on them like this... But, he couldn’t help it. He just... had to, okay? 

“No, I do,” Kate walked over to the couch and sat down gingerly, toying with her glasses for a minute. She rolled her eyes, “Well, at least my therapist thinks so. He says I create drama. Because I’m used to getting everything I want.” It sounded like she was repeating something that was said to her, no doubt words that her therapist said to her that made her try and crawl back to Derek. Stiles really wanted to claw her eyes out. “Sometimes, I sabotage things to create a challenge. You understand, right sweetheart?”

Derek shook his head and sat down beside her on the couch leaving a cushion of space between them. He shook his head slowly, “You’re elusive... complicated and beautiful. But I--”

Kate cut him off, placing a hand on his knee as she scooted closer to him, “Exactly Der. You get me.” The woman lifted her spare hand to comb through the side of his hair in a soothing fashion. “I’m sorry I put you through such hell babe.”

The man shook his head, causing Kate to pull her hand away from him. Stiles swore that he could see the tops of Derek’s ears grow pink as he glanced toward the kitchen. Stiles flailed as he pulled himself back away from sight, heart hammering within his chest at the thought of being seen. “It really wasn’t that bad.”

“I slept with someone.”

What? Stiles craned his neck just in time to see Derek launch himself from the couch, practically radiating with anger. Why would she even bring that up? Stiles was all for honestly in a relationship but this was downright cruel. Why would she break up with him and then tell him that she fucked someone else? In the same night just to come back the next day and crawl back to him. This woman had some fucking nerve.

“I said I was sorry Der-bear,” Kate got off the couch to stand near the now pacing Derek. She placed her hands on her hips not looking the least bit sorry about what she had done and the blow she had given Derek without warning. “It was sabotage! it was the worst 14 hours of my life. Do you hate me?”

Derek paused to let out a huff of air, shaking his head without looking at the woman. “No. I don’t hate you. Certainly not as much as I hate myself. You should go.”

“Seriously?” The woman sneered, reaching out to pull on one of Derek’s shoulders to whip him around so that he was facing her. “That’s it? I open up to you and this is what I get? Tossed out on my ass? We’ve been together for a whole two years Derek. You can’t just throw that away on a whim.”

“It’s not a whim, Kate,” He shook his head and took a step back. Derek pinched the bridge of his nose and seemed to steel himself. “I slept with someone too. If that’s not proof that we should just cut our ties to each other then I don’t know what is.”

Kate blinked at him before she tossed her hair over her shoulder, “Wait. Seriously? You. You slept with someone else?” She sounded incredulous, like someone as hot and amazing as Derek couldn’t get anyone he wanted. 

“Is that so hard to believe?” Derek asked with a stony expression. “It wasn’t fourteen hours... but still.”

The woman stared at him for what felt like a long moment before she flashed a feral grin at Derek that made Stiles’ stomach turn. “It kind of turns me on that you got back at me. Payback is a bitch, huh?” She took a few steps forward and ran her hands up and down Derek’s chest. “God, who knew you could be so hot. You should really take charge more often Der, it really works for you. Hell, it’s working for me too.”

“Derek,” She practically purred, moving closer to him so their bodies were practically flush. “It meant nothing. None of it. I love you babe. Do you think you can forgive me?”

The man took hold of her hands and pulled them away from his chest before he walked around the couch to practically collapse onto it. “I... I don’t know.”

Kate followed suit, moving to sit on the armrest of the couch before she stared at the coffee table, looking a bit bewildered. “Uh, Derek... Is that what I think it is?” She pointed at a champagne glass from the night before that still housed a small amount of champagne along with the diamond ring that he was going to propose with. 

Derek looked in the direction that she was pointing before he let his head fall back onto the couch defeatedly. “Yes. I was going to propose to you last night. There was a... Stiles prepared an amazing dinner for us and then I was going to propose. That was before you broke it off with me and... It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters!!” Kate jumped up and fished the ring out of the glass before sliding it home onto her ring finger. “Wait... what the hell is a Stiles? Nevermind. It doesn’t matter. I accept!” She lifted her hand to the light, inspecting how the ring looked from every concieveable angle.

Derek scrubbed a hand over his face before he tiredly looked up at her, “What?”. 

“Yes! I’ll marry you!!” She pulled Derek, her now fiance, up to his feet and kissed him briefly on the lips. “I’m going to go call my father! The family will be so thrilled!!!”

Stiles has had enough of this. Listening to this, the horrible relationship that Derek had with this Kate person... He had it up to here. He was done hiding behind the counter listening to all of it. He just wanted to go home and drown his sorrows. Hell, hopefully he had enough money to spare to get a box of wine or something. He waited for a couple of moments after he heard the sound of Kate’s heels waking out of the room. There were no sounds coming out of the living room, so Stiles hoped that Derek went with his crazy ass fiance and wasn’t around to witness his departure. Just on the off chance, Stiles decided to crawl towards the door on his hands and knees. This clearly made the most sense if there was someone still in the living room, thy wouldn’t really notice his escape.

“Stiles?” Or not. Wow, his luck was damn awful lately. He had literally only made it a couple of feet before being found out. Derek’s voice sounded tired and still the right amount of gruff that sent shivers down his spine. Stiles pulled himself to his feet, brandishing a smile that he hoped didn’t look too forced.

“Hey, Derek!” Damnit. His voice was too high pitched, he didn’t want this to be even more awkward than it was. Now that he could get a proper look at Derek, he noticed that there were circles under his eyes and a general weariness to his entire person. It was not supposed to make him want to wrap his arms around the older man and shield him from all the evil in the world. Really, it definitely was not. Especially when he had an awkward fiance not fiance standing on balcony. “I was just getting my knives. Never know when you’re going to need them for a culinary emergency. Am I right?" He forced a laugh before pursing his lips together, warring over the next comment that would undoubtedly fall from his lips. He was never one to just let things fall by the wayside. “Congrats, by the way, I heard.”

Derek frowned, his eyebrows drawing together in a straight line as he glanced towards Kate beyond the glass windows. “Thanks, I guess. I don’t... I don’t think the good wishes should keep coming in. It feels like a misunderstanding.” He shook his head, cautiously lifting a hand to place on Stiles’ shoulder. He did _not_ lean into the touch. I repeat, did not. Absolutely... damnit. “Look, I feel awful about this. Us.”

“Oh,” Stiles let out a broken laugh, trying to steel himself. He could not, would not think that Derek looked adorable right now. He ignored and pushed down the idea of capturing those pouting lips in a bruising kiss. That was definitely not what this situation needed right now. He needed to remember what Lydia said to him, Derek was the potential boss that he didn’t have feelings for. “Me too. I feel terrible. This, well, this was my dream job. I’m going to be heartbroken leaving.”

“Stiles I’m not firing you, I wouldn’t,” the grip on his shoulder tightened minutely. Derek let out a small chuckle, presumable trying to joke with the next words that left his lips, “The lawyers said I couldn’t.”

Stiles let out a shuddering breath, lifting a hand to touch Derek’s hand and pull it away from himself. “I don’t want to do that. To put you in such an awkward situation. It would be... awkward. Obviously. But... Really, Derek. I can’t do that to you.”

Fuck. If it didn’t kill him to say that. The job was amazing and Derek was... well, Derek was _Derek_. Stiles already felt for him after one day in his employment, he only hazarded that it would get worse; exponentially so. He couldn’t put Derek or himself through that, it wasn’t fair to either of them.

Derek drew in a deep breath and crossed his arms about his chest. “Look, I get why you wouldn’t, I don’t want to pressure you. I just...I like you,” He pursed his lips together as a faint blush settled over his cheeks. It was very becoming of him and Stiles wanted to crawl into a hole, that was how much he liked seeing the other man flustered. It was better than the urge to lick beyond the seam of his lips. Progress? Okay, not really at all. “You’re a good chef. The jobs yours if you want it.”

“I don’t know,” Stiles set his knives down on the counter. What could he do in this situation? He really should have talked more to Lydia, though of this option so he would know what his response would be. He looked up into Derek’s eyes, lost in the kalediscope of colors. “I don’t know what I should do, honestly.”

Derek smiled briefly, tilting his head to the side before speaking, “What would Julia do?”

That stopped Stiles’ thought process full stop. He stared at the man in awe, realizing that he too remembered parts of the previous night, the important parts where they had bonded. He had no clue if Derek remembered a thing about them sleeping together but... this? This meant more. It meant that Derek remembered both of them talking about their families, remembered the tragedies that they had both shared with each other.

“You know what?” Erica rounded the corner before going into the refrigerator to take out a flavored water. Unscrewing the cap, she glanced between the two men with an exasperated expression. “I’ll tell you what Julia would do. She would take the job because she wasn’t a fucking idiot.”

Stiles let out a loud laugh, shaking his head, “You’re right. I’ll take the job.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I said Kate wasn't going to be around a lot but i think i meant to inform you lovelied that that meant at least two more chapters. Derek thought that it was Stiles at he door in this fic alos Kte jumping into the proposal shows thaw they aren't on the same page.
> 
> Sorry if this is more slow burn but Sterek is the endgame.


	6. Young Hot 30 under 30 (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek hosts an important dinner with journalist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while... Hello! How are you lovelies?
> 
> Hope you all are ostill reading and enjoy the update. xoxo

“But we haven’t seen you in two weeks!” Scott practically wined through the phone, and Stiles didn’t have to see him to know what his expression looked like. He probably was full on pout and eyes round and pleading; Scott was practically a puppy. He felt bad about this, he really _really_ did. Once he took the job for Derek three weeks ago, it had kind of taken over his life. It wasn’t that he had expected any differently, Stiles just accepted the spot as a personal chef, that pretty much meant that he was at his boss’s beck and call. That didn’t mean that his best friend from forever, his brother from another mother, had to understand.

“I know buddy,” Stiles had the phone on the counter on speaker phone while he prepared the menu for tonight. It was one of the nights that Derek basically gave him free reign creatively. He had told him it was because he trusted him and his choices. What he did to gain the man’s trust was beyond him. But, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “But, we talked about this. I have to put in the hours here, I have to commit. But, maybe if we set a date I can see about getting the night off.”

There was a garbled sound as Stiles bent down to take a cookie sheet out of the oven, it almost sounded like Scott pulled away from the phone and covered it with his hand. That probably meant he was talking to Allison about something. “Okay, fine. How about the fifteenth? We can do dinner at our house and you can bring Lydia or whoever. Allison’s got the day off and you know how crazy her schedule is. Please?”

Stiles used the spatula to clear off the sheet before placing it by the sink. He wiped his hands off on his apron before picking up his phone. “Okay, I’ll ask the boss man about it later and I’ll let you know for sure, okay? That’s the best I can do.”

“Fine, but just letting you know we won’t take no for an answer.”

He rolled his eyes fondly, “Okay, okay, tell Ally I say hi. Talk to you later bro.”

He really couldn’t back out on this dinner with them, there had already been three coffee dates and one dinner that he had to bail on due to work. He knew that if this went any longer Scott would probably show up on his doorstep demanding some face time with his best friend. Stiles made a mental note to talk to his boss about it as soon as possible. Just not tonight. Tonight they had too much on their plate to worry about asking for a night off.

Stiles looked over the mini plates he had set up with a little hum of satisfaction. It looked damn good if he did say so himself. Just then, Isaac walked by to perch himself on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. The chef was glad that once this night was over, the amount of long suffering sighs and seriously backhanded comments would, well, not _cease_ but go back to the norm. 

“Isaac.” Stiles forced a smile as he made eye contact with the personal assistant. He could practically feel the judgment coming off of him in waves. It was palpable in the air how far his utter lack of faith was in Stiles. “Stop giving me the ‘ _you’re totally going to mess this up’_ stare patented as your normal stare when you look at me,” Stiles tilted his head to the side, rasing his eyebrows in a eye arc across his forehead. 

The man simply shrugged before leaning back slightly as he crossed his arms about his chest. “Then _you_ stop giving me your I’m totally going to fuck this up... face.” Isaac threw his head back only to let out a long suffering sigh, as if he were dealing with someone completely beneath him. Seriously, this was one of the absolute perks that came with the job. Really made Stiles feel special. “You _do_ know how important this is, right? Malia Tate is coming do dinner! Do you realize how crucial this is? She works for People magazine! Which is super important. And not only that--”

Stiles rolled his eyes hard at Isaac’s whole tirade, he had heard it countless times over the past week. Instead of letting the Personal Assistant continue, the chef cut him off as Erica sashayed past him heading towards the fridge, “She’s completely in charge of who gets on the thirty under thirty list. I know! Good god, for the hundredth time, I know!”

Erica snorted from behind him, pulling out a bottle of water. “We all know. You talk about that list more than you talk about your dream date with Bradley Cooper.”

“Whatever,” Isaac spat in Erica’s direction before turning back to Stiles. “And, if Derek doesn’t get on the list he’ll be devastated! I know, I know it’s not like he’s turning thirty or anything and won’t have another opportunity, but! He’s been overlooked for the past few years which is a crime!” The threw his hands up in the air, eyes widening as he continued, “He’s impressive as all get out and he _needs_ this.”

“Isaac,” Erica said sweetly, flashing a feral grin at the man. “Why don’t you go use your aroma therapy oils to try and relax and de-stress. Your hovering isn’t going to help Stiles, if anything you’re going to make him nervous. Shoo.” The blonde waved a hand at him, gesturing towards the office where Isaac usually went off to.

Isaac simply rolled his eyes, lifting his hands in surrender before moving to stalk out of the kitchen. Stiles watched the man as he went, trying to decide if Erica was joking about the aroma therapy or not... Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised. It was that or he really thought that Isaac needed to up the dosage.

Derek walked in through the front door, Stiles remembered him saying something about a meeting at the office. He usually worked from home, only going to the office if he really had to. Stiles wasn’t sure what it was all about, but he had a feeling that the man liked or felt more comfortable working from home. Stiles wasn’t entirely sure what was behind that but maybe he’d find out in time. It’s not like he was going to press the man for information just because he was curious. Well, in any normal situation he would have.

“Hey, how’s it going?” The man asked as he made his way over towards the kitchen, a warm smile stretching across his lips. And really, it should be a crime for someone to look that good. 

Stiles couldn’t help the grin that pulled at the corners of his lips, unable to help himself to mirror the other man’s expression. Not only that, but he couldn’t help the way his stomach flipped upon seeing Derek smile so openly, his bunny teeth looking so damn adorable Stiles didn’t really have words to express it. And he had tried. He was reasonably sure that Lydia thought he was grossly exaggerating. There was no getting over how physically attractive his boss was. Sure, he reigned in his cursory emotions regarding the guy, but he could still find him adorable without it being weird... Right? 

“Hi Derek,” Stiles paused his nearly finished preparations, wiping his hands on his apron before moving to lean against the counter. “Don’t worry, this is _completely_ under control. Nearly everything is plated and ready to go, just a few final touches and you’re well on your way to wowing this woman with my cooking and your staggering genius.”

The billionaire ducked his head, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Good. Good.” He chanced a look towards Stiles through his lashes, looking a little anxious.” “You do know how important this is because Malia Ta--”

“I know!” Stiles cut him off with a raised voice before cringing and cursing inwardly. He was supposed to be even the tiniest bit professional here. He knew that the whole situation was a bit unorthodox, but, still. When it came down to it, Derek was his boss not his friend. He really had to school that into his brain, over and over until he started to believe it and not think of their interactions in any other way. “Sorry. I just, Isaac’s been hovering all day. He even made Erica pledge the table twice. Hell, I thought she was going to spray him in the eyes and be done with it.”

Derek nodded, pursing his lips as he crossed his arms in front of him. Stiles tilted his head to the side, watching as his boss gnawed on his lower lip as the room fell silent for a moment, clearly mulling something over in his head. The chef hoped that he hadn’t gone too far, not that he hadn’t said _worse_ in Derek’s company, it was just that he seemed to be pretty protective over his employees. Maybe Derek was figuring out how to put Stiles in his place gently. The older man cleared his throat before meeting Stiles’ gaze, he held it there for what felt like a long moment. “Do you know how devastated Isaac will be if I don’t make the list?”

Stiles blinked a few times, allowing the other man’s words to really, truly sink in. Why would it really matter that much to Isaac if Derek got onto the list or not? Obviously, being his PA he would be happy about his boss getting on the list, but... Devastated? “Wait... What?”

“I swear he’s pulled every string for this list in the past three years, nothing’s worked.” The older man shook his head before lifting his gaze again. “Don’t... Please don’t tell him I mentioned this. It would really mess with his head if he knew I even brought it up; but this is important. This whole thing has to do with his ex. They didn’t end very well and they’re both in public relations...” Derek lifted his shoulders in a shrug as he let out a sigh. This... Well, it just floored him. It seemed like Derek didn’t care about the list... at all. All of this, the entire night was for his PA. Stiles found himself wondering how far back Derek and Isaac went back. There _had_ to be a story there for this level of loyalty. There just had to be. Stiles was going to figure it out one way or another. “Anyway. If this goes well... I think it would do wonders for him. Can you even imagine how much pressure he puts himself under for this?”

Stiles let out of a breath of air, moving to stir a small sauce pan’s simmering contents. He tapped the spoon against the edge of the pan before putting it in the spoon holder, flashing a self deprecating smile at Derek. “Yeah, I live paycheck to paycheck. I know a thing or two about pressure.” He let out a small laugh before shaking his head, “Don’t worry about it Derek. I’m sure everything will go well this time. Fourth’s time the charm right?”

Erica walked over from the living room where she had decided to relax for a few minutes and drink her water. Clapping a hand on their boss’ shoulder, “Will you just let him finish cooking? Isaac’s already given poor Bambi here five speeches on how much he can not screw this up. Hovering over him will not help him out. We just have to let him do his thing, okay? You should go finish getting ready”

Stiles nodded thankfully at Erica as he busied himself with finishing the dishes. He had took half of the afternoon prepping for this and he wasn’t kidding when he said that he had this under control. Stiles barely registered Erica and Derek talking in the living room area as he pieced the last of the food together. He wasn’t sure if it was a half hour or closer to an hour. When he was in the zone, he was freaking in the zone. Regardless of the time that had passed, the only thing drawing him out of being in the zone was the chime of the doorbell.

He watched as Erica gave the man a reassuring smile and patting him on the arm before she moved to open the door. Stiles moved to pour two martinis, eyes darting towards the opening door in anticipation. The woman had long golden brown hair and sun-kissed skin. She was pretty in an almost unassuming way. Her outfit was stylish, white trouser shorts paired with a black tank top that left the various tattoos that covered her left arm in an intricate sleeve clearly visible. Stiles tried to stare discretely, noticing even from a distance that there was a defined image of a coyote near her shoulder.

“Hi,” The woman cocked her head to the side, staring at Erica head on. There was a brief pause as the woman pursed her lips together in a smile, eyes flittering past her toward the pent house. “I’m Malia and I don’t feel like explaining my tattoos.”

Erica turned back towards the penthouse, one eyebrow raised dubiously as she made eye contact with Stiles briefly before turning back towards the woman, “I’m Erica. And I’m not in the mood to show you mine.”

Isaac rushed over to the door, sliding right in front of Erica and practically pushing her out of the way. He placed a hand to his chest and leaned forward, bowing his head slightly, “I’m Isaac. We spoke on the phone. Malia Tate, it’s such an honor to meet you! Your article last month about the deforestation in middle America was shocking as it was inspiring. Almost as good as your article on Brangelina’s road to recovery after the last UN meeting.”

“Aw, I hate kiss asses,” She tucked her clutch purse under her arm before continuing with a tight lipped smile, “Almost as much as I love them. Two times.” Malia stepped past the threshold to greet Isaac with a kiss on either cheek before she continued into the penthouse. “Huh, look at this place.” The woman spun around gesturing at various parts of the apartment. “Painting? Love. View? Love.” She turned away from the balcony before eying the couch briefly. “Pillow? Hate.”

Isaac scrambled forward to grab the offensive pillow before rushing out to the balcony and throwing it off into the distance. He looked back towards the room, Malia’s confused expression lingering on him. “That’s... That’s why they call it a throw pillow!”

Stiles shook his head as he placed two drinks on a serving tray, this was certainly off to a great start and it was only in the first couple of minutes. Tonight was going to be a long night. He steeled himself before walking over to the woman with what he hoped was a charming smile on his face. “Can I interest you in Cinnamon Toast Crunch-tini with actual crushed up Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”

“Doubtful,” Malia took the glass regardless and took a cautious first sip, her eyes widening in surprise. “Mm. I want a recipe, a photo and another.”

Stiles must have missed Derek rushing upstairs to quickly change when the doorbell rang because just then he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Derek stepped onto the landing, wearing a blazer over a maroon button up with tight black jeans that looked like they were practically painted on. His tie was slightly askew, but in Stiles’ ever humble opinion, instead of looking sloppy, it was just part of his charm.

“And here’s the man of the evening!” Isaac practically bellowed out to the room, making a sweeping gesture toward the stairs. 

“Good evening Malia,” Derek bit his lower lip before he slid down the banister, swiftly taking the second glass off of Stiles’ tray as he went. “Cheers.” 

As their glasses clinked the journalist simply nodded, eyes raking over Derek calculatingly, “Impressive.”

The corner of Derek’s mouth lifted in a smirk, rocking forward on the balls of his feet as he took a small sip of his drink. “Admittedly, that could have gone either way. I’m glad it went the good way.”

Stiles was too stunned to talk, wondering if Isaac had asked him to make that sweeping entrance. To make the man put on a show. Derek didn’t seem like the big gestures type of guy, mor subtle and reserved most of the time-- then again, he hadn’t even worked for the man for a month, he couldn’t exactly claim to be an expert.

“Well,” Malia started with a straight face, staring directly at Derek as she spoke. It was almost unnerving to see how focused she could be on one person. Stiles could only imagine being on the other end of her stare. “I have to say Derek, you’re the most handsome tech guy I’ve had to interview for my list.”

The tips of his ears grew red with embarrassment, if Stiles had to hazard a guess. Derek leaned forward almost into Malia’s personal space as if conspiratorily, “Can you repeat that into my phone so I can use it as a ringtone?”

Stiles smiled to himself as he quietly excused himself to move to bring one of the trays of food out onto the balcony, unable _not_ to notice Isaac laughing way too loudly and forced at Derek’s comment as he walked by. Maybe perhaps instead of aroma therapy, Erica should have suggested Valium. Seriously, anything to calm him down.

“May I escort you to the terrace?” Derek offered, holding out his arm to the woman. Malia took it without a word and allowed him to lead her out to where Stiles had already set up most of the food. Isaac, predictably followed close at their heels.

Malia hummed approvingly, eyes hovering over the table curiously. “What’s all of this?”

Stiles clapped his hands together before him, rubbing them together while he tried to ignore any nervousness he had at the moment. “You know how at Costco they have all those little samples?”

“No.” Malia said blankly.

Stiles blinked. Twice. Right, rich people. Crap. Well... okay. Okay, he could handle this simply by explaining it clearly and not seeming ruffled by the woman’s answer. He could hold back the sarcasm because tonight was important to Derek and he wasn‘t going to sabatogue it. “Well... they do. Anyway, so I called them store-derves; if you take enough of them they make a full meal.”

Erica walked around the pair to place down a couple of extra cloth napkins on the table, she paused for a second and snorted, “And yet when I take them they call security.”

“Anyway,” Stiles shot a side glance at Erica which only caused the woman to raise her hands placatingly as made her way back towards the penthouse. “I figured in honor of your thirty under thirty list, I would make thirty perfect mini dishes of classic American cuisine. Get it?”

Malia took a sip of her drink before letting out a small chuckle, “Yeah, I went to Harvard.”

“Oh! I have a sweater from there!” It was actually his mom’s, well worn and hanging on the back of his chair in his room. It didn’t smell like his mother anymore, but he still enjoyed having it with him, keeping a piece of his mother with him... It was comforting. There were those hopeless nights that he wrapped himself up in it and tried to remember the smell of her perfume as if it still clung to the fabric.

Isaac rolled his eyes with a small annoyed sigh, “Your parents must be so proud.”

This time, Stiles couldn’t hold back the glare, even with their present company. He knew that Isaac didn’t know the importance of the sweater, but still. He needed to calm down. Even if there was a lot riding on this dinner, there was no real reason for him to be a dick about everything. Isaac made a gesture for him to leave. Great, it wasn‘t like he was trying to steal the spotlight away from Derek or anything. 

Stiles flashed a smile at Derek and Malia, ignoring Isaac completely, “Alright, I’ll leave you guys to it. If you need anything, I’ll just be in the kitchen. Enjoy!”

“So,” Malia took a seat, leaning back in her chair completely unfazed by the situation. Either she was extremely laid back or she was used to being around people like Isaac. “How does a tall, handsome Internet mogul with great hair get is start?”

“Oh,” Derek sit into the free chair placing his drink down on a coaster. “The way we all do,” The billionaire leaned forward, smirk curving his lips.“We get shoved into a locker by a football player. I’m kidding, well, mostly. I guess you could say I grew into my looks.”

~~

Stiles did his best to stay out of the way throughout the rest of the night, only going onto the balcony to bring out drinks, desert and to clear away dishes. If he lingered too long, he just risked incurring Isaac’s wrath. Which, while it might have been funny under different circumstances to rile him up, Stiles figured that the man would be unbearable and he would probably regret it later. He had a feeling that sarcastic banter aside, the man could probably be pretty vindictive if he wanted to be.

He spent the rest of the time cleaning up the kitchen, loading dishes into the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. Stiles liked to make sure everything, and that meant _everything_ was back in place. Sure, sometimes his life was organized chaos, but that didn’t mean his kitchen was. Even the kitchen back at his apartment, he was meticulous about everything being in order. He had to know where everything was so he could function properly when whipping something up. There was this one incident when Lydia had put things away after getting groceries that Stiles had basically thrown a fit and rearranged everything... After that, it was an unspoken roommate agreement that he was completely in charge of the kitchen and would put away everything-- regardless of who did the shopping. Honestly, it was just safer that way.

“Dinner was fantastic,” The journalist’s voice drew Stiles out of his thoughts as he shut the dishwasher and stood up straight. He watched as the woman walked through the room with a natural grace that had to be admired. She knew how to carry herself and seemed extremely comfortable in her own skin. It wasn’t something that everyone mastered so easily; Stiles had to admit he envied it a little. She looked over her shoulder toward Derek who was a step behind her. “That last bite of salted caramel creme brulee was so rich...”

Isaac closed the door to the balcony after them, trailing a good foot or so behind the pair, presumably to continue to keep a hawk’s eye view on the entirety of the dinner. “It should’ve had a trophy wife?” Isaac added with a wide, hopeful smile. Surprisingly, his joke earned a chuckle from the journalist. 

Derek shook his head at the joke, probably already used to the other man trying too hard. After all, it did seem like there was a lot of history between the two of them. Stiles wondered once again how long they had known each other, if it was before Derek was rich or not. Hell, Stiles wondered if Derek had been any different before he had made his fortune. He didn’t think that the man would have been all that different, given how he acted when praised.

“It was nice meeting you,” Derek stated with an affable smile, offering a hand to the woman. He looked so damn proud of himself at how the night was going, having gotten gradually more comfortable as the night went on and it showed. Stiles had seen Derek around a select few people, workers from the office dropped by once or twice a week either to deliver something that needed to be signed or talk about a deadline that was fast approaching (Stiles didn‘t really know all the details). Derek seemed to be reserved the majority of the time that these people had come around, Stiles noticed. It seemed to take Derek time to actually get comfortable around people before he really started to open up. 

Which, Stiles had to admit that it was strange how easily the man had taken to him. He made a mental note to ask Erica about the matter in the future. Maybe she could give him some more insight to his boss. Though, he would really have to figure out a way to bring it up without sounding like he was really fishing. Even though he totally was. Whatever, he could at least admit to himself that he found Derek fascinating. Whatever. It wasn’t him being hung up about their little hookup. Not at all. How could you be hooked up on something you couldn’t really remember?

At least that was what Stiles was telling himself anyway.

“You too,” Malia smiled warmly at the man, taking his hand and shaking it genially. It seemed like she had warmed to Derek considerably, or at least had a decent enough evening. Though, it was kind of hard to tell, the woman seemed to have a pretty good poker face. Stiles would hate to have to face off against her in Five Card Stud. 

Isaac stepped forward patting Derek on the back before turning towards Malia, “Why don’t I walk you out.”

 

The PA lead the way out of the penthouse without sparing a glance behind him, confident that the woman was following him. Closing the door behind them, Isaac moved to hit the elevator before spinning around to face Malia. He flashed a smile that was all teeth, rocking forward on the balls of his feet. “So... What do you think of my boy?”

There was a pause while Malia took out a compact mirror to inspect her make up, reapplying her light pink lip gloss before dropping it back into her clutch purse and snapping it closed with the sound of finality. The woman’s lips crinkled in a smile, Isaac assumed the slight change in her demeanor due to being warmed by her time spent in good company. “Look, I don’t post the list until Friday, but I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”

 _Yesssss!!!_ Isaac was beside himself, he all but preened at the last sentence uttered. They had done it--- Wait, _Derek_ had done it. Yes, that was right. Derek charmed the journalist and it was totally going to mean that his success would be able to bask in the joy of his dreaded ex hearing about his current successful client. If only Isaac could find a way to _casually_ run into him to oh so subtly rub it into his face. Ahh... He couldn’t wait. “You wouldn’t?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Malia crossed her arms about her chest, her gaze meeting Isaac’s evenly despite their height difference. She seemed semi defensive, as if she was ready and waiting for an argument from the PA. “He’s not making the list.”

There it was. The other shoe had dropped. How the hell had this happened? The woman came here and dined with Derek, but she wasn’t completely charmed by him? That never happened. Definitely not when his boss was in his own space and comfortable... uh uh. He was calling bullshit. Isaac sputtered , moving to block the way towards the incoming elevator and gaping at the journalist disbelievingly. “But... you... but, wha--why?” Let it be said that sometime, Isaac did _not_ well under pressure. He already had so much stress in his normal business day to day that now it was expounded due to Derek’s success. He seemed to not be fully equipped to the task.

“Listen,” She placed a hand on Isaac’s upper arm, tilting her head to the side for a moment before steeling herself to the part she was dealt. “There are a lot of great candidates. You’re not the only stuck up publicist I’m dealing with.”

The man shook his head, not even bristling at being called stuck up. Hell, he had been called worse. “No I get that. People can be ruthless about this stuff but,” He drew in a quick breath and glanced back towards the door to the penthouse. He felt like he was running out of time, the only time he had to convince the journalist to consider Derek was until the elevator doors slid open to whisk the woman away and out of their lives. Begging was beneath him, and yet... Isaac wanted this so badly for Derek that he was willing to lower himself to it. “Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?”

“No, nothing,” Malia said as she pushed the button for the elevator once more, insistent on getting out of the building. She spun around with her head tilted to the side, eyes staring at the PA calculatedly. “Well... unless you can get me a date.”

 _Of course_. Isaac couldn’t hold back the roll of his eyes. Why did it always come down to this? Sure, Derek was insanely attractive and a catch but seriously. Couldn’t people catch the hint? “Believe me, no one knows the pain of not having Derek than I do. Buuut. Unfortunately, he’s engaged. More or less happily.” 

“Derek? No,” Malia let out a huff of air and pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment before she flashed a tight lipped smile at Isaac. “No, not him.”

Isaac blinked a few times before letting out a huff of laughter. “Oh. _Oh._ Look, I’m flattered and everything, but you’re really, really not my type.”

“No, not you. That cute little chef.”

Isaac’s eyes grew wide in disbelief. It’s not that he couldn’t tell that Stiles was attractive... It just definitely not what he had expected. He _barely_ interacted with the journalist and yet, and yet he still made this much of an impression on the woman. “Oh... Stiles?” Malia nodded, a smirk curving her lips. “With the pots and pans?”

The woman continued to nod, “Yes, Stiles.” Her words came out slowly as if she thought that Isaac wouldn’t quite understand her if she spoke normally. “Stiles with the cute moles and the whiskey colored eyes. Did you see his arms when he was carrying the trays of food out earlier? To die for. Is there any chance he’s single and straight?”

Isaac pursed his lips and glanced back toward the door, “He’s definitely single.” The man lifted his hand to inspect his perfectly filed nails. He certainly wasn’t above pimping Stiles out if it got his boss on the list. Honestly. What harm could come of it? The chef would go out have a couple drinks and maybe tell her he wasn’t interested. Completely harmless. “Come to think of it, he’s never mentioned anything about a girlfriend.” Okay, okay. It wasn’t really a lie per se, it was true that Stiles didn’t say anything about a girlfriend. It wasn’t completely off base... Even if he knew that Stiles had a one night stand with Derek... That didn’t necessarily mean that Stiles’ preferences were completely towards men right? Who knew. Maybe they’d hit it off and the chef would turn over a completely new leaf.

“So,” The woman tossed her hair over her shoulder, “Do you think he’d be interested?”

“I’ll tell you what," Isaac took a step closer to the journalist, figuring that he would throw caution to the wind. He felt a minor moral debate warring within him before he said screw it. He knew that this was a risk, and if he did take it a good portion of this whole god damn thing would be riding on Stiles’ shoulders. Christ, Isaac did his best to hide a shudder, he never thought he would have to rely on _Stiles_ for anything important. What was happening in the world??? Which... okay. Whatever. Honestly, it couldn’t hurt the situation. Especially if Malia said that Derek wasn’t going to make the list. “If you put Derek on your thirty under thirty list, I’ll get Stiles to go out on a date with you. Deal?”

“Deal.” Malia said readily, shaking Isaac’s hand on the deal before turning on her heel and entering the elevator.

Okay. Okay. The night could have gone worse, Isaac nodded to himself as he watched the elevator doors slide closed. The PA bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment, trying to push back the potential panic course through his entire being. He could do this. He could figure this out. He spun around and rolled his shoulders back, steeling himself, before he reentered the penthouse. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips, seeing Derek standing by the edge of the couch waiting for him grinning from ear to ear.

“We crushed it,” The man started, sliding his hands into the confines of his pants pockets. He was practically radiating with joy. It was downright _adorable_ , “Didn’t we?” Derek took a few steps closer to Isaac, eyes downcast as he bit his lower lip. “What’s the news?”

The PA clasped his hands before himself, glancing around the room briefly before he fully addressed his boss. He felt a little bad, knowing that this could all fall through. That this whole night could be a complete waste of time. He just needed to play this right, to get Stiles to play his hand and hopefully everything else would fall into place. “Malia found _someone_ in this room very impressive.”

Derek nodded, leaning over to pick up his phone. “That’s great.” The man flashed a blinding smile in Isaac’s direction, clearly pleased with the events of the night. “I’m going to go call Laura and tell her the good news! She was really rooting for us-- I mean me. To be on the list.” 

Isaac pointed at Derek as he made his way to the stairs, “You do that! Go you!”He waited a moment, watching the other man walk up the staircase and out of sight. He waited to the count of three before rushing over to the kitchen. “We have a situation.”

Stiles didn’t glance up from the dish he was washing in the sink of the dinner. The man let out a low hum, a non-commital noise. “What is it?”

“Derek is not the shoe in that he thinks he is,” Isaac started, figuring he was going to be better off if he eased into this. It wasn’t like he could just tell Stiles the truth-- he would never go through with it. Well, maybe he would where it was for Derek. Either way, Isaac wasn‘t going to risk it. “The competition is very stiff”

Stiles pulled a face, turning towards Isaac and gesturing with the green sponge in his hand. “Aw. Why does the competition always have to be stiff? Why can’t it be limp or--”

“Zip it!” Isaac cut him off, voice raised enough that it would cut off the chef but not loud enough that it would disturb Derek. 

The chef’s eyebrows arched over his widened eyes, shock clearly playing across his features. Stiles paused for a short moment, eyeing the PA briefly before he turned back towards the dishes that still needed to be cleaned. Someone was definitely off their meds. “Geeze sorry!”

Isaac drew in a deep breath before flashing a toothy, winning smile, “I’ve made arrangements to have you go to have drinks with Malia.” The PA walked toward the fridge to take out a water. He fiddled with the bottle in his hands for a few minutes before turning back around to face the chef who was still washing dishes from dinner. “And talk Derek up.”

“Me?" Stiles glanced over his shoulder as he continued to scrub a baking sheet. Clearly confused at the current chain of events. “Why me?"

The PA took a long sip of his water, leaning against the refrigerator, he really didn’t want to give Stiles the benefit of knowing how much he was being valued at the moment. “For reasons, I.. quite honestly cannot explain, Malia has taken a liking to you. Maybe it’s your cooking style. Or that your’re a man and she wants a man’s... man’s point of view.'  
Stiles shrugged, turning the water off and wiping his hands dry on a dish towel. He turned around, staring off into the distance for a moment, debating his options. He let out a loud laugh before slapping the dish towel onto the counter. “How awesome is that? I’m in. Hell, for free drinks I’d even talk you up.”

Isaac scoffed, turning his head to the side, clearly offended by the implication. “Just... just don’t forget to flatter her.”

The chef leaned forward, winking haughtily at Isaac before he turned back towards the dishes. “Don’t sweat it. For Derek? I will charm the pants off of her.”

Isaac grinned to himself as he turned to walk out of the kitchen area. “That’s what I’m hoping.”


	7. Young Hot 30 under 30 (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets up with Malia in hopes of talking Derek up but is quickly confronted that the night isn't what it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. It's been a while. RL stuff has been crazy and my computer got the blue screen of death so... it hasn't been all sunshine and daisies over here.
> 
> Upside: Shiny new chrome book equals new updates. Mad props to Trix who helped a sister out with converting non-Microsoft Word docs to Google Docs and saving my life (and some semblance of sanity). Much thanks as always my dear.
> 
> Hopefully there's a couple of you still out there reading this little guy! I had to split the update up but I'm going to schedule it to be posted tomorrow or Monday. So, keep an eye out for that my lovelies.
> 
> XOXO ~~Gossip Girl~~ er, Cortney  <3

After leaving the penthouse, Stiles had a little over an hour to go home, get changed and meet back up with Malia. _Pure_ was the name of the bar that Isaac had given to him. To be honest, Stiles hadn’t heard of it before now, though, that wasn’t completely out of the ordinary. Especially if it was a place that people like the journalist frequented. If it was, it was probably, more likely than not, too expensive for his blood.

Luckily, it only took him one bus connection to get there, having to resort to public transportation knowing what his gas tank situation was (ie perpetually on E). Granted, even with that fact, it made more sense to take the bus. It would take sheer luck to actually find parking in that part of the city.

As he rounded the corner nearing the bar, Stiles eyed the line of people waiting to gain admittance. He glanced down at himself, gaging his clothing choice for the night. He ran his hands along the front of his blue button up shirt, smoothing out any wrinkles that he might have missed earlier. Stiles really had no idea what to expect of this place so he hadn’t really known what to wear either. Lydia had still been at work, so he couldn’t rely on her expert opinion-- all he had to rely on was himself. Well, himself and a brief texting session with Scott. His brother from another mother had insisted that he wear his usual go to jeans after being filled in on the whole situation. Scott left no room for argument, insisting that they were, after all, his lucky pants for a reason. Granted, Stiles liked to think that they were his lucky pants for different reasons. They clung obscenely tight to his thighs and ass, leaving little to the imagination. 

But, hey, this was for Derek after all. Maybe Scott had the right idea, looking good couldn’t really _hurt_ the situation.

Though, maybe he should have gone with the v-neck and jacket combo instead of the dress shirt. Hell, at the very least he should have changed out of his chucks. Stiles shrugged to himself, it was what it was. Malia had thought he was charming (or, at the very least, amusing and interesting in some way) before and he had been wearing an apron at the time. So, this had to be some kind of improvement, right? It wasn’t like this was a date or anything even close to it. He was just overthinking the whole situation. He was just here to talk Derek up, get a couple of drinks out of it and then go home. Easy as pie. He could so do this.

Hell, even if he was a touch on the underdressed side, at least he was already on the list. Stiles drew in a deep breath, setting his shoulder as he headed toward the bouncer.

~*~

 

Honestly, he really thought that this would have taken less time. Not that he was complaining! Not at all in the least. He just assumed that someone like Malia would have had more important things to do than hang out with someone’s personal chef. To say the least, he was... surprised. The woman was rather blunt with a dry sense of humor that Stiles thoroughly appreciated and enjoyed. The fact that she was completely un-phased by the fact that Stiles was here with the sole purpose of talking up his boss so he could have a spot on the ~~stupid~~ list. He would have thought that she would be annoyed or bring it up right away to get on with her night. Maybe it was just due to the fact that she was used to it, but Stiles had to admit all and all, he was having a damn good time.

Stiles laughed at the tail end of his own joke, pausing to take a sip of the _amazing_ blood orange martini he had ordered off the printed menu. clearly he was a high class man stuck in a low class income because _yum_.

“Wow,” Malia leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the tops of her thighs and all but leaning into Stiles’ personal space. She was a lot different towards him here in the bar versus how she acted in Derek‘s penthouse. He was beginning to think that maybe they could actually be, well maybe not friends necessarily, but acquaintances. “Handsome and a sense of humor? You’re a catch Stiles.” She paused for a moment, reaching out for her tumbler of whiskey to take a sip of it before placing it back down on the table in front of them. “I’m glad that you wanted to go out.”

He scoffed, placing a hand on her upper arm while he shook his head in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? You’re the most successful person I’ve ever been out with. Hands down.” Granted, the list was pretty barebones even with adding Malia’s name to the list. It wasn’t like he was from the same social circles or lead the same lifestyle as someone like her or Derek. He was more someone who stayed on the outskirts of it all. One of the nameless faces in the crowd, or in his case, in the kitchen. Now... wow. Okay. That was a vaguely depressing train of thought to follow at the moment, Stiles made the swift decision to ignore it completely.

“Look," The journalist started, tossing her golden brown hair over her shoulder. “I hope you're not intimidated by me. I know you're not really used to all of this." Malia gestured with her left hand toward the bar around them before placing a hand on Stiles' knee. “I want you to be able to tell me anything."

Stiles flashed a broad smile, nodding his head a couple of times before leaning forward on the leather couch that they shared. It was go big or go home, right? Out of anyone, Derek deserved to be on this god damned list. If he could do anything that would help him out, well, Stiles would freaking do it. Okay, he could do this. Stiles was going to sell the shit out of Derek Hale. “Let me just start out by saying that Derek is straight up amazing. I mean, for someone who’s famous for creating award winning apps and software, he’s completely down to Earth. He’s so modest tha--”

Malia shook her head, effectively cutting off Stiles’ train of thought. She brushed an errant strand of hair away from her face before smiling in a manner that could only be described of as coy. “Enough about Derek.”

“Wait... what?” Stiles stammered, confusion coloring his tone. He stared at the woman for a long moment with his mouth agape. Wasn’t... That was the precise reason that they were here, wasn’t it? Stile tried to backpedal and figure out what exactly just happened. He shook his head, gathering himself enough to speak, “Enough about Derek? By, why? I thought that he was the man of the hour.” Stiles sat back in his seat, taking a slow sip of his drink as he tried to regain his footing. Maybe he should have been more subtle about how he pitched Derek. Maybe... Maybe this would make this easier. That it would be simpler if Stiles _casually_ worked him into the conversation. Was that how this kind of thing worked in the ‘business’ world? Subtle and dancing around the subject? Stiles hated that, why not just talk about the reason they were really there and get it over with? Clearly subtly was not his strength.

Stiles tilted his head to the side, offering the woman a toothless smile before he ventured on. “Okay, but can I just tell you one more teensy little--”

“Shhh...” The woman pressed an index finger to his lips in attempts to stop Stiles from continuing. He couldn’t help from widening his eyes in shock, not comprehending what in the hell was going on. Really though. What in the hell.

Letting out a small, stifled laugh, Stiles batted her hand away. “You know, my parents used to do exactly that when I was younger and would talk way too much, that was before the ADHD diagnosis. That and, well, the quiet game. You know that one? The one where it’s a challenge to see who can stay quiet the longest. I lost pretty much ninety percent of the time.” Though, he did remember one time, which was one of the highlights of his adolescence, when he managed to get his dad to swear and lose the game. Oh memories.

“Well,” Malia leaned forward, placing her hand once again almost tentatively on his knee. “I just wanted to change the subject. I’m sure you spend a good amount of your day already worried about your boss, you should be able to relax for a bit. You know, let loose?” She squeezed his leg briefly smiling up at him with what Stiles would probably describe as a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

Which... shit. Stiles had seen a look akin to this before on a former friend from college. Stiles wasn’t exactly public with his sexual orientation back then, Heather thought he was a great friend with potential for their future together. Unfortunately, for Stiles, and Heather by proxy, he could be a little oblivious to certain things. Hell, there had even been a friendly intervention of sorts due to his close friends thinking that he was leading her on. It had been embarrassing and flattering all at the same time.

But... it wasn’t like they were here on a _date_. Malia should not have had any reason to walk into this place thinking that there was any possibility of, well, anything if the idea about tonight was to talk about Derek. 

Wait. Why did he not even think to question this before? Isaac set this whole thing up. Isaac who hated Stiles with the passion of a thousand suns and would do anything, literally anything, to help Derek out...

Fuck.

Stiles did his best to school his features into something resembling affable, not wanting to ruin this completely before he actually knew for sure what was going on. “Malia, what, uh, what exactly did Isaac tell you about me? Or, you know, about tonight and what this was?"

“Oh, well,” The woman lifted a hand to drag a single finger down the side of Stiles’ face lightly.Once her index finger dropped past the man’s chin she turned towards the table to once again pick up her glass, swirling the amber liquid around momentarily before downing the rest of it in one fell swoop. Malia set down the tumbler glass almost triumphantly, accepting the liquid courage it offered, before setting forth and answering the proposed question. “Just that you were single and I had a chance.”

What. In. Hells. Name.

He really and truly hoped that his face was schooled as much as he thought it was, that it wasn’t showing his shock and surprise was coloring his entire expression. He braced himself by clapping his hands in front of him. Deflection, that was going to be his play for the moment until he decided what the hell to do. “You know, I could really use a drink. Another drink I mean,” Stiles reached for his martini glass and downed the last few sips. “How about whiskey on the rocks?” Sure, it might be a faux pas (depending on what century you were stuck in) to ask the woman to get the drinks. But, one this was a dire situation and two, screw gender roles. He really hoped that she wouldn’t make a fuss about it; she seemed like a forward thinking sort of woman. Sure, depending on who it was it could go either way, it was a gamble but he was reasonably sure that she would go with it. 

Malia leaned forward, patting the chef on the arm, “You’re just like me! I love a good _hard_ liquor!” The brown haired woman stressed the word making the comment sound lewd and suggestive. If he had been in any other situation, Stiles would applaud her for it and wish he had thought of something just as ridiculous. Malia pushed herself to her feet with a bright smile before heading straight over to the bar for their order.

He stared after her for a couple of seconds before scrambling to pull out his cell phone out of his back pocket. He glanced back over his shoulder, noting that Malia seemed to be behind at least two people before she could even order their drinks, giving him a good couple of minutes for this. _Pick up, pick up, pick up_ , he thought after dialing the culprit behind the night. 

“Stiles!” The PA’s voice was overly enthusiastic, lacking that hint of dripping sarcasm and distaste that Isaac usually only reserved for him. If that wasn’t a sign that something was horribly wrong. That the world was spinning on a different axis, Stiles didn’t know what was. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite chef! How’s it going?”

He sincerely wished that the other man was here so he could wring his freaking neck. It wasn’t bad enough that he barely tolerated Stiles (and that was being fucking generous), but now he was pimping him out? What in the hell was going on?

“Isaac!” Stiles practically hissed into his phone as he turned to his side, away from where the woman had been sitting. “You set me up on a date! Which normally I might not one hundred percent be against... but it was with a _woman_!!” He was really trying not to get hysterical, but, honestly, who would blame him? “I’m almost completely certain with everything that’s happened that you’re well aware that I’m gay!!”

On the other end of the line he could hear Isaac let out a low hum, “Well, I just figured you wanted to... keep your options open. Just because you slept with the boss doesn’t _strictly_ mean that you’re gay per se. To be fair, you never actually said specifically. I wouldn‘t have assumed based on one incident. Bisexuality is really common, you know.”

Stiles didn’t believe that for a second. He remembers how he babbled in his first interview about not having a boyfriend. That was stating a fact, clear as day. Isaac was just trying to cover his tracks. Hell, he _knew_ Erica and Isaac idly gossiped, you couldn’t work that long with someone and not. And Stiles had vented about seeing an ex of his updating about upcoming nuptials on Facebook and that he wished he could find a nice _guy to bring along as his date if it came to it.. It wasn’t like his sexual orientation was a freaking secret or anything._

_He pinched the bridge of his nose as a sigh escaped his lips. “What were you thinking? Isaac, this is flat out insane. I’ll even draw you a map to show just how far away from sane this whole idea really is.”_

_“Okay fine," Isaac sounded painfully morose. If Stiles didn’t know the man very well, he might even feel bad for him. But he didn‘t, nope. Not at all. Not one little, teeny tiny bit. “Derek wasn’t going to make it on that list unless you went on a date with Malia, okay? Satisfied? She made that fact very clear."_

_Huh. Which, okay, that was pretty fucking messed up. But, he could see why Isaac being Derek’s personal assistant would pimp Stiles out for Derek’s sake... but the whole lying aspect? Stiles really didn’t like being kept out in the dark. “But, why didn’t you just tell me that from the start?”_

_There was a drawn out pause on the other end, as if Isaac was mulling over the question internally. “If I asked you to go out on a heterosexual date, would you have?” Isaac’s tone was cautious, if slightly disbelieving._

_“No!" Stiles squawked, his entire face twisting in disbelief. Which, okay, maybe he would have done this for Derek if he had actually been asked but it still sucked being dishonest to someone who was actually interested in him._

_“Okay, then you gave me no choice.” The man sounded very matter of fact and Stiles really needed to remember this for the next time he saw Isaac. He was going to give the dude hell for all of this. It was seriously unfair to put someone in this situation and seem pretty much unapologetic about being called out over the whole thing. “Look, you’re Derek’s last hope. So be funny! Kiss her ass... or... any other body part you feel comfortable kissing!”_

_Stiles shook his head furiously, “Isaac, I swear to god. I hate you so much right now I’m going to--” He turned his head and upon seeing the return of his companion he hit end call. Turning fully in his seat he flashed a tight smile toward the woman, “Heeeyyy!”_

_Malia held one of the drinks to him in an offering, head tilted to the side as her wide brown eyes drank him in. “God, you’re cute.”_

_“I’m really not,” Stiles took his drink taking a large sip and feeling the pleasant burn of the alcohol course through his system. He was still not much of a whiskey man, that was more his father. “Look, remember when you said we could take it slow? You don’t? Well I do.”_

_Malia nodded slowly, placing her drink down on the table gingerly, all without taking her eyes off Stiles. “You’re right. Let’s just take sex right off the table. I mean, I think on the first date,” the woman started inching closer to him, their faces hovering mere inches apart, “All you really need to do is--”_

_“Talk! I’m one hundred percent with you on that one!” Stiles scooted back on the black leather couch, trying his best to distance himself from the woman who seemed rather intent on kissing him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like kissing, he did! Really, Stiles was probably kissing’s number one all time fan. Hell, he had even kissed his fair share of women before he figured out that was way more into guys than girls (okay, there had been a few after that but, hey, college man). It... it wasn’t about the kissing. He didn’t want to mislead her; even if this would be good for Derek.She seemed nice, if a little intense. Stiles still liked her, just not in _that_ way. It wasn’t fair for any of them to manipulate her like this. All for some stupid list._

_“I mean, how else can you really know someone if you don’t--”_

_As Malia continued to advance, oblivious in Stiles’ attempts to spare her feelings as best he could. Stiles wound up sliding over too far, flailing and falling off of the couch onto the floor with a loud thud. Damnit, the floor wasn’t even carpeted to cushion his fall, the hardwood floor was probably going to leave a mark. He ungracefully pushed himself to his feet, moving to straighten his clothes all while being on the receiving end of a confused stare from the journalist. “Look, Malia, I... I can’t do this. I’m really sorry.”_

_The woman stood up from the couch, crossing her arms about her chest almost defensively confusion registering in her expression. Crap, she was hurt. This was the worst night ever. All Stiles could think of was how much Isaac was going to suffer for pulling this stunt. “I thought we were having fun. Don’t you find me attractive?”_

_He groaned internally, how the hell did he wind up in these situations? He had to fix this before it got completely out of hand. “No, it’s not that. Of course I do! You’re gorgeous. Anyone would be crazy and utterly blind not to find you attractive. And if I were into women, we would totally be making out or doing the horizontal tango.” Stiles reached out to tap the woman’s left arm, struggling to reassure her with this whole messed up situation. “Hell, you’re so great we’d probably be in the middle of booking a flight to Vegas to elope.”_

_“Wait...” Malia held out a hand, tilting her head to the side as she processed the information. “You’re gay?”_

_“So gay.” Stiles nodded emphatically, he did not want this to get misconstrued in any way sense or fashion. He himself held a torch for people who had previously brushed him off but didn‘t bluntly tell him that no, they weren‘t into him in _that_ way. He would spare anyone he could from feeling like that if he could.“Kinsey level six gay.”_

_“Well, then why did Isaac tell me you were... Oh. To get Derek on the list.” Malia sunk back down onto the couch with a sigh. She looked defeated as she picked up her drink, not bothering to take a sip but just swirling the liquid around in the glass once again._

_“Look,” Stiles took a few steps and sat down next to the woman, keeping a reasonable distance from Malia, not wanting to push her. “I didn’t even know this was a date until your hand was on my thigh.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh as he shook his head. “I should’ve realized earlier but... I can be a little oblivious sometimes.”_

_“This is one of the most humiliating moments of my life,” the woman put her glass back down on the table without taking so much as a sip from it. She leaned forward, her elbows braced against the top of her legs as she stared off into the distance._

_Crap. Stiles ran a hand through his hair, more than likely disheveling it more than was fashionably appropriate. “Look Malia, I’m sorry. I feel terrible.”_

_“No,” She let out a sigh before clenching her jaw shut. A muscle twitched in her jaw before she turned her head to gaze while smiling tightly. “It’s not your fault. It’s my therapists. My boyfriend broke up with me and she told me to get back out there. Look what good that did me.” Malia’s smile fell, her expression turning more towards furious as her eyes glistened with tears that looked like the threatened to spill._

_It was weird, but this was the sort of thing he could handle. He was amazing at this part. He could handle this more than someone being awkwardly attracted to him (and, what _exactly_ did that say about him?). Stiles gently put his arm around Malia comfortingly. “I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”_

_Malia shook her head negatively but still drew in a shaky breath before starting, “We were together for two years. Two years! Then out of the blue... We’re over.” She bit her lip as if it would help her keep her errant emotions in check. “He won’t answer my texts or calls. He hasn’t even picked up his stuff. Or his cat.”_

_“How much stuff are we talking?” Stiles’ eyebrows drew together in thought, thinking about how this had happened to other people, fortunately he had no personal experience with this sort of thing. But Lydia definitely had this happen to her on multiple occasions. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. He left his stuff, his freaking _cat_. He left his stuff because he wants to have a foot in the door, he left a reason to come back. Regardless of what happened, he still wanted the option, a reason to come back.” Stiles nodded to himself before picking up the drink he had discarded earlier and threw it back. “And we’re going to shove him right back through that door.”_

_“How exactly are _we_ going to do that?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnnnn...


	8. How Malia got her groove back (or, more accurately, her man back)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the failure of a set up by Isaac, Stiles comes up with a scheme in attempts to draw Malia's ex-boyfriend's attention and win him back. The intentions of the evening are misconstrued by others and _someone_ feels the need to rescue Stiles from the whole thing. Shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-Da! New update. Hooray!
> 
> This chapter is a continuation of the 30 under 30 thang, for those of you that watch the show. Malia's ex is OC, not that it's super important, I couldn't think of any one from the show that would make sense at least in this story.
> 
> <3

“You’re going on a date... with a woman?” Lydia shouted incredulously from the couch where he left her just a few minutes ago, after rushing through the door to give her the short version of his night.

Stiles rolled his eyes as he tore off his shirt and pulled on a black v-neck and a smart blazer that he had gotten as a steal down at the thrift store around the corner. Sure, he was now all black on black, but it wasn’t a bad look. He was trying to look the part. He had told Malia the plan back at the bar, as barebones as it was, and headed back to his place to change. They were trying to inspire jealousy from her ex--and hopefully not get his ass kicked. 

“It’s not an actual date,” he shouted as he kicked off his sneakers and replaced them with his best pair of dress shoes. Stiles exited his room to duck into the bathroom to inspect his hair quickly. It was still a little messy, but at least he liked to think it looked more artfully styled than just rolled out of bed. It was as good as it was going to get. “It’s to get her ex back in the palm of her hand. I promise, not a date.”

He reapplied his cologne and winked at his reflection in the mirror before heading back out to the living room. Lydia was still in the same spot on the couch with her eyebrows raised as she took a sip from her stemless wine glass.

“Hey now, No judging! This is a judgment free zone,” Which was a total and complete lie. The pair of them always tried to be honest with each other, even if it was harsh. It was part of why their friendship worked so well. That and the fact that they had the ability to call each other on their bullshit. He let out a sigh, “I'm only doing this to get her ex-boyfriend to realize what he’s missing out on. And, you know,” Stiles winced slightly before continuing, “So Derek will get on the Thirty Under Thirty list. It's really not that complicated."

Lydia made a noncommittal noise as she took another slow sip of her red wine, presumably pinot noir. Mark West made a fabulous one that was reasonably priced. She got an entire case a couple months back as a treat to herself, refusing to touch another box of wine stating it was below her even if it was what she could normally afford. That’s where even meager spring bonuses came in handy. “Right."

“Now,” Stiles decided he was going to ignore her suspicions for now, he was sure that if she had something important to say that she wouldn’t resist telling him. For right now, it could wait. He really didn’t have that much time to waste if his plan was go into action. “If you saw your ex-girlfriend with a guy who looked like this, would it make you want to get her back?”

Lydia looked at him calculatedly as she set down her wine glass, tilting her head thoughtfully, “Depends... Why did we break up? Have we really worked through our issues? Has she changed? Because I do not want to end up in the same place with her a year from now.”

Stiles couldn’t help letting out a laugh as he ran his hands over his blazer, ensuring that there were no visible wrinkles. “Lydia, just tell me I look hot."

“You look hot sweetheart,” the red head stated before blowing a kiss.

~*~

“I can't believe your ex works here at Fuse,” Stiles said as they entered the restaurant, Malia’s hand resting in the crook of his elbow to ensure that they actually _looked_ like they were on a date and not just two friends or acquaintances having a nice dinner. They had to project the image as much as possible to ensure that the plan worked. “I’ve been dying to come here.” Though, he really didn’t have enough money to throw away on dinner at a place like this... that didn’t mean he hadn’t been dying to come here.

Malia took out a tube of muted pink lipstick and deftly applied it with her free hand before snapping it back into her clutch purse. “My ex owns this place.”

“What?!” Stiles stared at her for a brief moment with his mouth agape as his brain short circuited before remembering that he was supposed to be projecting a cool, confident guy on a date. He schooled his features before looking around the place. The walls were cool tones of blue and deep purple, the tables were covered in crisp white tablecloths. It looked even better than the few pictures he had seen online. Stiles had read all the reviews about this place, about how the owner and head chef had studied abroad in Europe, taking time in several different countries to learn the different culinary styles before developing his own fusion of them; hence the name. He had several best selling cookbooks before opening his own restaurant.

Okay, so maybe Stiles had a professional crush on the guy. With only knowing about the guy on paper, he could understand why Malia would want him back.

“My usual table please,” The woman told the hostess, looking cautiously disinterested as if it were normal for her to bring another man to dine here.

They were led over to the table and Stiles pulled out Malia’s seat before sitting down next to her instead of on the other side of the table. It would look more intimate this way. He picked up the menu and started looking through it and let out a low whistle. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re paying right? Cause I definitely _cannot_ afford to eat here.”

“I know, I saw your place earlier when I picked you up,” Malia stated without looking up from the menu, taking in the specials. Fair enough.

He set his menu down, drumming his fingers on the table as he looked around from their new vantage point. Over in the far corner there was a large opening in the wall where the kitchen was on the other side. Stiles grinned, “Oh cool! We can see into the kitchen! I love places like this, it’s like looking behind the curtain at the wizard as he does his thing.”

Malia let out low sigh, staring in the direction of the kitchen, looking almost wistful. At least wistful for her, he imagined. Which probably meant that-- “That’s my ex, his name is Dustin.”

“Oh... wow.” Stiles vaguely remembered the chef’s name from the articles but he hadn’t had a visual until now. Looking at him made Stiles wonder why Malia even tried to go on a date with _him_ ; especially if that was her type. He had ash blonde hair that was barely visible under his chef cap and was all broad shoulders and muscles from what he could see. He looked very all-American down to the dimpled chin, someone Stiles could easily see as someone who was homecoming king and played football back in High School.

“Isn’t he handsome?” Malia tossed her hair as she leaned an elbow on the edge of the table. “Almost too handsome.”

Stiles nodded dumbly, wondering if someone as confident as her had a complex in thinking that maybe that this Dustin character was too good for her. That was definitely not true. He didn’t know the woman very long but he knew that she was beautiful, smart and had a dry sense of humor that he definitely appreciated. Even if this had nothing to do with getting Derek on that list, Stiles still would have helped her out.

“Okay, now we just have to draw his attention, alright? We can do this,” he turned towards her, putting an arm across the back of her chair and leaned in. “Now, just look at me and whatever I say, just laugh like I’m funny and adorable. Like this is the best first date you have ever been on.” 

Malia nodded once before letting out loud pearls of laughter for a few minutes before letting it die down and patting Stiles on the arm. She spared a glance over Stiles’ shoulder towards the kitchen before frowning. “This isn’t working.”

Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “You’re a little impatient, aren’t you. That’s okay, we just have to turn it up a notch.” He paused for a second before he spotted her phone on the table beside her napkin. “Take a selfie of us. Then tweet it with the hashtag ‘Best date ever’ with three dancing heart emojis. That should get us somewhere.”

~*~

Back at the penthouse, Derek hummed to himself as he sat at his computer turning around when Isaac came through the door. Derek grinned broadly, completely oblivious to the frown and crease of frustration between the PA’s eyebrows. “Hey, I just ordered three hundred copies of the next issue of People.” He leaned back in his chair, practically bubbling with excitement. “That way we can hand them out to everyone we know, good idea right?”

Isaac shifted on his feet, turning to straighten out a few issues of Wired on the end table, “Yeah, but you know that old saying ‘don’t buy a bunch of magazines before you make the list?' It’s a variation of don’t count your eggs before they hatch? Or... something." The man grimaced briefly as he drew in a deep breath. He really had to tell Derek about not making the list. But, Isaac just couldn’t. He felt like somehow, he had let Derek down. He had thought that the little date set up would solve everything and, viola! Derek would never need to know. Of course Stiles had to go and have morals.

Derek shook his head fondly with a small laugh before he turned back towards the computer monitor, “Okay, Isaac.”

A few minutes of silence go by before Isaac let’s out a sigh, “Derek, look I have to tell you something.”

“What’s going on?” Before Isaac can even start his explanation, a notification on Derek’s phone went off drawing his attention away from Isaac for a moment. A smile curved the older man’s lips, “It’s a tweet from Malia. I had her updates alerted after she said that she might give a sneak peek of the list on...” He trailed off as the Twitter app loaded on his phone and was greeted with a picture of Malia and... Stiles. They were leaning into each other, looking less like people who had just met a couple hours ago and resembling something more intimate. The longer he stared at the photo, the less sense it made to him. It made something sink in the pit of his stomach like lead. 

Erica sauntered into the room with a cup and saucer, eyes darting between Isaac and Derek questioningly. Isaac shook his head at the blonde and shooed her toward Derek who still looked stunned as he stared dumbly down at his phone. His eyebrows drawn together in confusion and the corners of his lips were pulled down in a frown. “What the hell is this?” 

The blonde placed the cup down next to him on the desk, arching a brow at her boss. “It’s oolong. You just asked me to get it for you. Not that it’s part of my job description or anything.”

“What? No, not that,” Derek glanced up at Erica, he hadn’t even realized that she had entered the room at all having been completely absorbed with the picture. “This.” He held out his phone to Erica and Isaac, clearly not being able to wrap his mind around what he was seeing. He was looking between both of them for the answer that he definitely did not want and dreaded.

“Uh, thats... that’s... It’s a selfie,” Isaac smiled sweetly, clasping his hands in front of himself trying to act nonchalant. He didn’t want to come clean about the whole situation and his heavy handed part in it. “All the kids are doing them.”

Derek gritted his teeth and his answer practically came out as a growl, “I know what a selfie is Isaac.” He stood up from his chair, he ran his hand through his hair as he paced back and forth briefly before stopping directly in front of Isaac. “Why are Stiles and Malia doing it _together_?” 

The PA took a few steps backwards, shrugging unconvincingly, “Do we really know why anyone does anything with anyone?”

The older man glanced back at his phone, a mix of disbelief and anger coloring his tone. He knew that he didn’t have a reason to be jealous if Stiles was really out with someone but... One, he couldn’t help it. And two, he knew that this didn’t seem right. “It says hashtag ‘best date ever’.”

Erica let out a loud, barking laugh, sobering slightly after being on the receiving end of a glare from Derek, “Hashtag I did not see that one coming.”

Derek sat back down, shoulders hunched forward as he looked once again at the photo displayed on the screen of his phone as if it were mocking him. This gaze followed the bow of Stiles’ lips stretched in a wide smile, taking note at how the strands of Malia’s hair brushed the side of his face. “Isaac,” the millionaire spoke quietly. “What’s going on?”

Isaac sputtered, placing his hands on his hips, “That’s my question. Yep, the moment he shows up tomorrow, that’s what I will be asking him.” 

A muscle jumped in Derek’s jaw, weighing his options. They could wait until tomorrow, but what if something happened? Could this all be a misunderstanding. Though it was pretty damn cut and dry what was going on. He couldn’t let this wait until tomorrow, he had to know what was going on right now. “I’m calling him.”

“No!” Isaac reached forward and snatched his boss’ phone away from him, holding behind his back and out of reach momentarily. “Look, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but, you weren’t making the list.”

“What.”

Isaac grimaced once more, attempting to continue on, to try and sell his version of the story to cover his own ass. “Which... Which is why Stiles decided to go on a date with Malia. He wanted to do everything he could to get you on that list.” Isaac held out his hands in mock surrender, “I couldn’t stop him.”

“You’re not buying this are you?” Erica asked Derek with her hands crossed over her chest before letting out a groan and walked over to Isaac poking him in the chest. “I call bullshit!”

Derek’s eyebrows drew together in thought as he looked away from the pair of them to think over the situation. Stiles wasn’t like that, he wouldn’t just go out with some random woman to ensure that Derek got on some stupid list, a list that Derek already told the chef wasn’t all that important to him. A list that he had told Stiles was really, _really_ important to Isaac...

The older man looked over at Isaac who smiled sheepishly at him. “Please tell me that you didn’t pimp out my chef.”

“Fine!” Isaac sat down on the edge of the end table defeatedly. “Yes, I did it. And I did it for you, okay? Happy now?”

Derek raised his eyebrows in shock staring at the man before him. “For me? You mean you did it for _you_! I don’t give a damn about this list.” He shook his head, reeling from the information. He wasn’t exactly sure what was bothering him more, the fact that Isaac took it upon himself to do this or that Stiles apparently felt obligated to him enough to _actually_ go through with it. “You’re the one who has been obsessed with the article even after I don’t you it really didn’t matter if some journalist thought I made the cut!”

“Oh please!" Isaac scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “This coming from the man who just bought three hundred copies of a magazine you’re not even in!"

Erica stepped between the two men, clearly fed up with everything that was going on in this conversation right now. “Why don’t you both stop yelling at each other and just admit it? You both cared about getting on that list. You wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of hosting Ms. Tate here if it was just for some stupid article. You _both_ wanted to impress the crap out of her.”

“For him!" Both men answered in unison, gesturing towards each other to further emphasize their point. Derek let out a huff of frustration as he dropped his arm, jaw clenching in anger. Erica was right though and if he hadn’t wanted to make such an impression on Malia and set up their dinner meeting at the penthouse, none of this would even be happening right now.

“And what about him, huh?” The blonde said turning to face Derek, eyebrow cocked in question.

The millionaire startled for a second, glancing back at Isaac who had started typing something out furiously on his phone. “Who?”

The woman threw her hands up in the air in defeat before narrowing her eyes at her boss. Derek felt the corners of his lips curve downward in a frown, he really didn’t like feeling like he was missing something. “Stiles, obviously.”

Fuck. Right. _Stiles._ How could he forget that his priority should be to get him out of this situation and he could reprimand Isaac later? God, he was such an idiot. Derek grabbed his phone from Isaac and all but ran from the office.

Erica let out a low whistle as she stared after her boss, “At least when he fires you, you can add pimp to your resume.”

“Shut up,” Isaac snapped without much heat, slumping down defeatedly into a chair. He fiddled with his phone for a minute before dropping it into his lap. “You don’t think I’d get fired over this, do you?”

The blonde smiled fondly at the PA before walking over to him, crouching down in front of him. “If Derek wanted to get rid of you, he would have done it years ago. You’re like his little screw up of a brother, even if he tried to I think Laura would kick his ass. If that’s not job security, I don’t know what is.”

~*~

Back at the restaurant, Stiles was staring down at the most amazing looking meal that he didn’t have to pay for. He had ordered the special without really looking at the menu, knowing that he really wouldn’t be able to make up his mind. He had a habit of looking up menus for restaurants online and this place just had so much to choose from that he wanted to try. It looked like the special was ribeye steak sliced thin over broccoli tempura and zucchini fritter. The presentation was flawless. It looked like this was the type of place that used sauces and purees to dress the plates and enhance the dishes. Granted, that usually meant smaller portions but, it seriously looked amazing.

Beside him, Malia’s eyes were glued to the kitchen, watching in rapture as the crew and her ex-boyfriend worked effortlessly together. Her mouth set in a thin line that was slowly slipping into a frown, “Why hasn’t he come over here?”

“Uh," Stiles quickly glanced toward the kitchen before looking back to his meal. There had to be a way he could multitask. To get his fill of the food and make the head chef positively jealous. They had to really sell the fact that they were into each other. “Wait! You know what would really set him off? What would really be a thorn in his side? Us feeding each other.”

Malia’s eyes flitted between Stiles and the kitchen for a few moments before picking up her fork to feed a bite of her entree to Stiles. He flashed her a quick smile before he took the proffered food. As he chewed the pasta dish she had ordered, he let out a low noise of contentment. “Ohmygod. This is freaking delicious. Like orgasmic. Is that a hint of thyme? You know what, another bite would definitely rile him up a bit more.” 

After another bite from her, he couldn’t help his eyes rolling back in his head briefly as he chewed and savored every last morsel. Why was he not the rich one at this table? He would make a good rich person and he would definitely appreciate the hell out of a boyfriend who was _this_ talented in the kitchen. Life was just not fair. 

He heard the slight clang of the woman setting her fork down on her plate, the noise drawing his attention towards Malia. Her eyes were wide as she stared off into the distance where the restaurants chef was briskly taking off his gloves and beginning to stalk out of the kitchen. “He’s coming over here. Stiles, what do I do?”

“Um, okay okay,” Stiles drummed his fingers on the table as he chanced a glance over toward the man swiftly closing the distance between their table and the kitchen. He definitely looked like a man on a freaking mission, which hopefully meant that their plan had worked. Getting under the other man’s skin either meant that he was still into Malia and seeing her with someone else was still pretty much an open wound... Or that he harbored some resentment towards her after the split and her coming to the restaurant was a low blow. Probably a fifty-fifty percent chance... sixty-forty? Definitely not more than seventy-thirty. No way. Crap. They could be utterly screwed.

Steeling himself, Stiles angled himself closer to Malia and picked up his fork, gesturing with it as he continued, “Don’t worry. Just sit back and let my plan play out. He’s going to come over here, talk some smack.... Annnnd probably kick me out. So, I’m going to keep eating while I can.” With that, he started shoveling bites of his and his companion’s food into his mouth, making small contented noises as he did.

Without raising his eyes, Stiles could see sunkissed hands rest on the back of the two empty chairs across from them. Cue the big confrontation. After finishing swallowing his current bite, he flashed a wide smile at the broad shouldered (and had he mentioned handsome? Seriously, if he didn’t make it as a chef an Abercrombie model would also work out for him) man opposite them. “Malia, what are you doing? Is this some pathetic attempt to make me jealous?”

“That depends..." Malia said coolly, lifting her martini glass to take a slow sip without breaking eye contact with Dustin the entire time. “Is it working?"

There’s a loud noise from the front of the restaurant, the sound of metal clanging against metal as the door is shoved open with such force that it banged against the corresponding wall. Stiles couldn’t help the jump of his eyebrows into his hairline as Derek, of all people, burst into the restaurant. There was a grim sort edge to his expression, almost close to determination as he looked wildly around the open floor plan, eyes flitting over the tables until there was a spark of recognition in his eyes. Stiles tried to shrink down into his seat, praying that Malia’s hunky ex would hide him from his boss’ line of site.

“Malia!" The familiar deep voice called out across the room, causing the personal chef to curse under his breath. They almost succeeded! What was Derek doing here anyway? And... _Why_ was he looking for Malia? The dark haired man made his way to their table within a matter of seconds, standing behind the chair across from Stiles, glancing between Dustin and the chair with a single eyebrow raised before pulling it out and gingerly dropping into it. “Stiles.”

This isn’t really the time or the place, but Stiles swears the way that Derek says his name sometimes is a personal curse. His name coming out of someone’s mouth shouldn’t key him up so much. _‘That’s not the only thing I want to see come out of his mouth_.’ Oh god. he felt the back of his neck grow hot, embarrassed that that thought even entered his mind. He chastised himself, he had been so good at not objectifying his boss, about pushing the attraction he had for the man as far out of his mind as he could. Clearly, it wasn’t working out all that well.

Stiles cleared his throat before sharing a look with Malia, who despite her confession of being nervous over this situation seemed completely calm. Stiles sometimes envied people who were able to play things so close to the vest. “Hi Derek. No offense meant whatsoever, but what are you doing here?” 

The millionaire looked down at his hands, his jaw tightening noticeably for a moment before his lifted his gaze to meet Stiles’. “Saving you,” Derek leaned forward in his chair over the table, clearly not caring about the potentially awkward predicament that he was about to present. “Look, you know you don’t have to pretend to be straight to get me on the list. It’s...” He took in a slow breath through his nose, eyes never leaving the personal chef’s face. “It’s just a list. It doesn’t mean anything. It definitely doesn’t mean enough for you to do something you wouldn’t normally do. Something that you might regret.”

“Wait,” Malia’s ex cut in dryly, pointing a finger at Stiles. “You’re _gay_?”

Allowing his jaw to drop didn’t really take all that much effort, just like it didn’t take much to muster up the incredulous expression that he was sporting. He was going to have to pour over what Derek said later; hell, he was probably going to pick apart every word, every syllable to see if there was possible other underlying meaning tucked away. Sure, moralistically speaking Derek was trying to, what? Defend his honor? Stiles couldn’t help but maybe think that part of his boss actually was here because he didn’t want him to be on a date with someone _else_. But, he had to tamper that theory down for now.

Right now? Right now, he was supposed to be helping Malia make her ex jealous and basically shove her back into his lap so they could live happily ever after... Or, whatever. Sure, this started out about getting Derek on the list but Malia just looked so freaking miserable at the bar earlier. Everyone deserved their shot at happiness.

“What?” Stiles let out a scoff, shaking his head. He leaned back in his chair and draped his arm across the back of Malia’s chair. “No, man, I think you’re the one who’s gay.” Ouch, that was painful for even him. He was reverting back to high school levels of deflection. “I’m definitely into the ladies with their lady parts. I love women... and boobs. I love their long hair and soft... skin.”

The blonde man raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms about his broad chest, blue eyes staring piercingly at Stiles. “Okay, sure. Say I believe you. Then what is he talking about?”

“I honestly don’t know where to start.” He stated almost exasperatedly, he was grasping at straws here. He really didn’t want to screw this up for Malia, but Derek was also his _boss_ and simply Derek with all the tangled mess of everything that went along with it. He steeled himself, if he was going to go through with this he was going to do it one hundred percent. “He’s just a guy I used to be friends with. He was obsessed with trying to get with me and flat out refused to accept the fact that I was straight. It, well, as you can imagine, it was really sad.” He couldn’t help but cringe inwardly at his flimsy lie. He would have to explain this to Derek later and hopefully he would understand. 

How did he even know where they were? Stiles thought as he took a sip of his drink, letting what he said sink in and hope that he said enough to help Malia save face and not have him thing that she was pathetic or something.

Derek let out a huff of frustration, “I don’t even know what’s going on here.” The personal chef chanced a glance at his boss and he just looked so confused and crestfallen. There was a crease between his eyebrows as they drew together, his mouth was nearly set in a straight line but tugged slightly down at the corners in a frown.

“I do,” Dustin declared to the table, clearly having enough of this entire thing if his bored expression was anything to go with. “This is a ruse.”

Which, okay no. Sorry. If there was anything that anyone had to know about Stiles Stilinski was that he did not shrink in the face of defeat, he did not throw in the towel but hold on to the very end even if it was by the skin of his teeth. Stiles sputtered, “Oh yeah?” Okay, fine. It was go big or go home and he wasn’t leaving this restaurant without the journalist getting her man back or at least setting a fire under his ass so he fought to get her back. He reached out to place his hand on the woman’s jaw and guide her face towards his. Stiles _knew_ for a fact that he was a good, enthusiastic kisser. He poured all that he had into it without making it weird, hopefully ensuring that it didn’t look awkward or forced.

When they parted, Stiles let himself linger in Malia’s space, their eyes meeting for a brief moment when he winked at her conspiratorially. The moment was broken by a low grumble on the other side of the table, coming from the ex-boyfriend, five star chef extraordinaire. “So, this is a date. How, how could you do this to me Mal? First you never have time for me, for us, then you bring another man into _my_ restaurant? That’s beyond cold.”

The woman placed both of her hands on the table and pushed herself to her feet, her chair making a loud noise as it was abruptly sent several feet behind her. “Oh please ! You’re the one who left _me_ to focus on your career. A career that was fully established and blooming before we even moved in together!”

“You were never even awake when I got home. It was like you didn’t care to even try anymore,” The fair haired man was practically seething, his cheeks coloring pink as the argument continued. “Who even goes to bed that early?! You’re twenty-four not eighty!”

Malia leaned across the table as far as she could, eyes narrowing, “Someone who drinks an entire bottle of wine waiting up for their boyfriend to get home, that’s who!"

The pair stared at each other for a tense long moment, their chest practically heaving as everything sank in. Dustin was the first to break the eye contact, clearing his throat as he stared at a fixed point on the ground. “I never want to see you again Mal. We’re over.” With that, the man walked away from the table towards the kitchen.

Malia glanced behind her to pull her chair back into place before sinking into it defeatedly. “Yeah. Great plan Stiles. Worked like a charm. Why don’t you have your own relationship column. No, a talk show would be better. At least then they could market the utter disappointment with an exchange just like that.” 

“That’s harsh,” Stiles stated indignantly, it wasn’t really his fault that it didn’t work. Clearly the point was that he had tried. Really, pretty much the majority of the night happened due to things that he hadn’t had to do. Not really. Help Derek get on the list. Not really in his job description. Help Malia try to win her ex back even after she repeatedly hits on him? Nope, pretty sure he could have just walked away from that whole thing. 

“Well... the making him mad part really worked, that’s something. You don’t get mad if you don’t care, even a little.” He let out a sigh, picking up his napkin to wipe his hands off. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom than we get get the hell out of here. It’s been a long night.”

~*~

Derek’s eyes followed Stiles’ retreating form, his lips curling once again into a slight frown. Part of him did not at all want to meddle-- that wasn’t something that he did. It wasn’t his place, he knew that. All he had come down here for was to ensure that Stiles wasn’t doing something he would later regret. That he wasn’t doing something he thought he _had_ to do for Derek. But... And that was one hell of a dangerous word, Derek was not a fan of it in any way shape or form. _But_ , Derek felt compelled to attempt to sort this out for Malia. Not for the woman’s sake (which, he knew sounded insane) but for Stiles. The man had seemed so... invested and to genuinely care about the outcome of the night. That he actually wanted Malia to get back with her ex-boyfriend.

From his encounters with Stiles, he wasn’t really someone who could easily mask how he felt about situation; it tended to be written clearly in the lines of his features. As the waiter placed the check down on the table accompanied with several pre-packaged mints, an idea started to unfold within Derek’s mind, hopeful that if the woman agreed to it, it would go accordingly. “Malia.”

The woman took a sip of her water and shook her head stiffly, “No, Derek. I do not want to be consoled. I just want to pay the bill and get the hell out of here with at least some of my dignity intact.”

“I wasn’t going to console you,” the man shook his head, realizing how off that sounded and how easily it could be misconstrued. He turned fully toward the younger woman, doing his best not to set the woman off any more in her emotional state. “What I wanted to tell you was that I had a plan.”

Malia let out a huff of hair and threw her head back as she stared up at the ceiling, as if praying to whatever higher power she believed in to give her strength. A brief moment passed before she turned her gaze upon Derek, “Not again. I’ve been humiliated enough for one day.”

He knew she was going to be a tough sell, especially after everything that had happened this evening, but he was hoping whatever charm he possessed would help him convince the woman. “No, trust me. I’ve seen this work before. You just have to do exactly what I say.”

 

~*~

 

Stiles splashed his face with water once he was done washing his hands. The entire night had been a complete bust, and that was putting it mildly. From Isaac setting him up to the fact that he clearly couldn’t even help others navigate their love life. It shouldn’t have come to such a surprise to him, looking at the disaster of his own love life, or, really, lack there of. Hell, the last person he had been involved with intimately was currently his boss and... yeah. He wasn’t even going to go there. 

Though, speaking of Derek... What did he think that Stiles was going to do if he thought that he was trying to make sure he was helping him get on the list? Did he, did he think that Stiles was going to, what? Sleep with Malia? Stiles felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. Clearly Isaac might have _hoped_ that he would take that route even though he knew from day one where Stiles’ sexual preferences lay. He didn’t think that that was a reflection of his character but more of Isaac’s lack of moral compass. But, the way that Derek rushed into the restaurant...

No. Stiles grabbed a couple of paper towels and dabbed the moisture from his face and let out a breath of air that he hadn’t known he was holding. Derek didn’t think of him that way. Stiles knew Derek, sure he couldn’t always read him like a book, but, he knew that Derek wouldn’t think so low of his character. He was probably rushing to his aid, making sure that Stiles didn’t think that he _had_ to be in this situation because Derek was his boss.

Rolling his shoulders back, Stiles smiled to himself and exited the bathroom, ready to call an end to this night of epic fail-- He all but skidded to a stop when his eyes landed on Malia making out with the head chef . His brain short circuited. There was no way that he missed all that much, he was not even gone for five whole minutes! What in the world was even happening? 

Stiles practically scrambled around tables, muttering apologies to people’s chairs that he bumped as he ungracefully made his way towards his table. He slid into the chair beside Derek, grabbing onto his upper arm, fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt. “What. Just. Happened.”

“Things, uh,” Taking his eyes off the reunited couple, Derek turned his head to the side first eyeing the hand on his arm before clearing his throat. “Just have a way of working themselves out. Love finds a way.”

Relaxing his grip, Stiles patted his boss on the arm, “Okay, it shows just how much shock that I’m in that I’m not practically swooning over the fact that you almost sort of quoted Jurassic Park to me. But, I call bullshit. I want a play by play, in minute detail.” He waved his free hand in the air, as if to conjure the details that he was missing. “Like, do I deserve credit here? And, if so, how much? Their first child being named after me, or more like a vague nod in their vows? C’mon, this is dire information. I clearly need to know.”

Shifting to pull his wallet out of his pocket, the millionaire shelled out enough twenties to cover up their meal and then some. He brushed Stiles’ hand off of his arm and gestured toward the door with his chin. “We should head out.”

Stiles let his jaw drop as he followed suit and stood up. Derek was brushing him off, he couldn’t just leave it like that. He had to know what happened when he was gone, there was no way that the head chef just came to his senses within the span of five minutes and took Malia back. Something had to have happened. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Malia wave her boyfriend off and sauntered over towards them. He turned towards her with a wide smile, ready to congratulate her. She sauntered over with a sly smile before reaching out to hit Derek gently on the arm with her clutch purse. “It worked! Thanks Derek. We’ll all have to do dinner again soon. Well, maybe without the theatrics... But, hey! They worked so.”

“Yeah, hey. So long as it worked out for you two..." The tips of Derek’s ears turned pink as he ducked his head to avoid anyone’s gaze. He slipped his hands into the confines of his pockets and rocked forward on the balls of his feet.

“See you,” The journalist pressed a kiss to both of their cheeks and made a beeline to the door. 

Watching as she walked away, Stiles was left to gape, completely lost for a minute before turning to face his boss. “What plan?” He hissed, hand gripping his boss on the upper arm once again and tugging, trying to get the older man to face him. “What did I miss when I was in the bathroom? Are you secretly a scheming genius Derek Hale?”

Derek shrugged nonchalantly, brushing off Stiles’ hand so he could start making his way to the exit. “It would look like I am. Guess a near death experience, such as choking on a mint, works better than enticing jealously.”

“Hey, my plan should have worked!" The younger man bristled, making people see someone else with the person that they loved made you realize what you were missing out on. Made you realize that it could be them there with the person they were meant to be with. It kicked their stubborn asses into gear. It _should_ have worked for Malia and Dustin. “Hell, it worked for Lydia! Though, her ex-boyfriend probably has more issues than Vogue, but, hey,” Stiles shrugged as if to say what can you do as Derek held the door open for him to exit the restaurant. 

Derek walked toward his car, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. “I... I just wanted you to know that I had no idea about tonight. About Isaac setting you up. I would never do something like that to you. When I saw the picture online I...” He shook his head drawing in a deep breath, stopping himself from saying what he really wanted to say. to admit that he didn’t like seeing Stiles with someone else. That he didn’t like the feeling that gripped his heart like a vise when he thought momentarily that Stiles _could_ be with someone else. That he could be happy with someone else. That Derek wished he could be that person for him. That would be... inappropriate to say the least. “I don’t want you to feel indebted to me like that. I don’t want you to ever feel like you need to put yourself in a situation like this just to help me.”

“I know big guy. But,” _I would do anything for you_ , Stiles cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks heating. Stiles definitely could _not_ say that to Derek. That was completely not a boss-employee level of conversation. Stiles really needed to keep himself in check before his said something to Derek that he couldn‘t take back. He wished he was better at filtering himself, especially with people he felt comfortable around. Derek was definitely counted among those people, but Stiles needed to be able to separate his feelings for the man and doing his job. It was definitely something he was going to have to work on. “What can I say? I love my boss.”

For fucks sake, that statement hit closer to home that he was willing to admit. As he slid into the front seat of Derek’s car, he allowed himself to shake his head. He was utterly screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Next on Young and Hungry_ : Things finally heat up between the boys. And there is Kate drama (dun dun dunnn).
> 
>  
> 
> Note: I know I keep mentioning Scott and Laura, they will show up eventually. Promise.


End file.
